


SpaceDad Stories Book One: Data's New Friend

by KimberlyChapman



Series: SpaceDad Stories [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Abandonment, Abduction, Anxiety, Archaeology, Bad Jokes, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, Coping, Crash Landing, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Loss of Limbs, Medical Conditions, Mercenaries, Musicals, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Puns & Word Play, Resentment, Romulans, Science, Science Fiction, Space Battles, Starfleet, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Technobabble, Terraforming, The Borg, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimberlyChapman/pseuds/KimberlyChapman
Summary: Someone new is coming aboard the Enterprise, bringing all of her strangeness and secrets with her.  She's unusual even for this crew, and Data is increasingly fascinated to have fresh and friendly experiences to explore.  But are the ways in which her history lines up with Picard's merely coincidence, or does the captain suddenly have more to cope with than he ever imagined?Delve deeper into the minds of your favourite characters plus new ones in this series of re-imagined Star Trek episodes blended with original adventures and revealed relationships that get to the heart of the galaxy's most compelling people, places, and possibilities. To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .
Relationships: Data (Star Trek) & Original Female Character(s), Data (Star Trek)/Original Female Character(s), Jean-Luc Picard & Original Female Character(s)
Series: SpaceDad Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192337
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One

#### Stardate 47067.3 (Sunday 01/25/2370, 13:32) – USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D – Observation Lounge

Captain Jean-Luc Picard leaned back in his chair at what he thought was nearly the end of his senior officers’ briefing. It had been a lengthy meeting, their first all together since returning from Ohniaka Three where they’d encountered Lore, Hugh, and several other Borg.

The tedium of a more usual Starfleet workload was a relief in a way, yet it remained tedious nonetheless and Picard wished to wrap it up so he could get back to preparing for other more interesting events coming up soon. “If that’s everything else done, then Mr. La Forge you had something about an invitation to a specialist you wished to discuss?”

Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge nodded. “Yes Captain, I’m really excited about this one.”

Commander William Riker rubbed his eyes. “This has already been very long. Do we all need to be here to discuss you bringing in new engineering staff?”

La Forge replied, “Ordinarily no, but this is a special case and I need some agreement across department heads, especially before the captain goes on leave in ten days.” He grinned widely. “I am very close to getting Anna White to join us here on the Enterprise!”

Most of the rest of the assembled senior staff exchanged a questioning look.

La Forge raised his hands in exasperation. “Anna White! The warp genius behind the new core we’re getting in two months!”

“As I suggested to you this morning, nobody in this room other than you and I routinely reads the journals in which she is cited,” said Lieutenant Commander Data.

“Well yeah,” La Forge said, “but come on, she’s the Baltimore survivor!”

Lieutenant Worf’s omnipresent frown deepened. “What happened in Baltimore?”

“Not the Earth city,” Data clarified. “The SS Baltimore that crashed into Covaris Two.”

Picard’s blood ran cold and he sat up stiffly. “There were no survivors of the Baltimore. That was over twenty years ago.”

“Nineteen years, four months, and three to four days ago, sir, since the precise date and time of the crash is unknown.” Data clarified. “And there was indeed one survivor.”

“Captain, are you all right?” asked Counsellor Deanna Troi.

“I had…an acquaintance on the Baltimore,” Picard replied carefully. “Meredith White. Did she survive and change her name to Anna?”

“No sir,” La Forge said. “Anna is her daughter. She was just a little kid when they crashed.”

Picard shook his head. “We must be talking about different ships, different people. Children were not permitted on Starfleet duty vessels back then, let alone on a scouting mission that close to the border of Federation space.”

“There has only been one SS Baltimore sir,” Data said. “NAR-22601, Aerie class. The surviving child grew up alone on board and relaunched the ship on stardate 44330.3.”

“That’s only about three years ago,” Riker said. “It sounds familiar…”

Doctor Beverly Crusher’s eyes grew wide. “Oh I do know who you mean!”

“I’m glad someone here does,” La Forge said.

Crusher cast a dire look to Troi as she said, “The girl who was taken by Loxos, and then treated abominably by Starfleet at The Institute.”

A horrible dawning crossed Troi’s face as well. “Oh no! I’d forgotten her name but…oh dear!”

“What, is she some kind of dangerous lunatic?” Riker asked.

“Will!” Troi chastised. “That’s a terrible thing to say about the mentally ill. And no, she’s unfortunately all too sane despite being tortured repeatedly after she was found.” Troi put her head in her hands and her shoulders slumped as if it was a struggle to bear the weight of the story. “My heart broke when I first saw the reports coming through. I couldn’t stand to read them all.”

“Don’t read them,” Crusher warned. “I did at the time because of Starfleet Medical’s interest in her multiple unusual conditions. It was one of the worst things I’d ever read. I could hardly sleep for weeks after.”

“Would one of you care to explain what the hell is going on to those of us who are in the dark?” Picard demanded with more of an edge to his tone than he intended. His relationship with Meredith White had ended badly and he’d felt terribly guilty once he’d calmed down and realized he’d been partly to blame. His guilt was then renewed several years later when he’d heard that the Baltimore and its entire crew had been lost. It wasn’t that he’d ever held a torch for Meredith, but rather that he suspected she had for him, and he knew he had been unkind in their final argument. The thought that she had a child smuggled aboard was further unsettling, and dark calculations of stardates were prickling at the back of his mind.

“Sorry,” Crusher said gently. “It was major news at the time but you would have been…otherwise occupied with even bigger events.”

Riker rubbed at his eyes again, “Wait, I think I do remember this. She was found in the aftermath of Wolf-359, right?”

Picard successfully suppressed a shudder.

“Yeah,” La Forge confirmed. “That creep Loxos found her in the remnants of a ship he stole from the Wolf-359 wreckage grounds. And he…well, yeah.”

“What?” Picard asked. “He what?”

“He kept her bound in his sickbay and viciously assaulted her for weeks until she overpowered him, took over the ship, and sent out a distress call,” Troi said softly but with each word landing like a weight in the room.

Wincing, Crusher added, “That’s one reason why she’s of interest to Starfleet Medical, because she has a very rare condition that renders her highly resistant to sedatives. He was sedating her, or so he thought, and then when she saw a chance she clobbered him and took the bridge. She was rescued by another Starfleet vessel –”

“The Fleming,” Data interjected.

“Yes, and taken back to Earth, where she ought to have been welcomed with the utmost kindness,” Crusher said.

“Instead the now-disgraced Dr. Rundell got to her and managed to stick her in his facility at The Institute for studying feral children,” Troi explained. “Where he proceeded to psychologically abuse her further until she hacked her way through the communications system to present a petition for release to Starfleet command.”

“And when that was investigated, she was finally released,” Crusher said. “Even then, they just sent her on her merry way with no support whatsoever.”

“No, there was an attempt to provide her with the counselling she should have received from the start,” Troi countered. “But she refused. She wanted nothing to do with Starfleet after all of that.”

“Can you blame her?” the Doctor asked.

“Not at all, no.”

“Right,” La Forge said, his earlier enthusiasm dampened by the uncomfortable elements to the story. “But Daystrom eventually got in touch with her and she’s done work off and on for them since, explaining her unorthodox methods in repairing the Baltimore and then further research beyond that. Turns out the kid’s a genius, and now everyone wants her attention. But she got overwhelmed so an edict was issued that none of us were allowed to send her questions anymore without going through Dr. Cortez from Daystrom. She stepped in and took care of White, keeping her from continually running off into hiding.”

“Why wouldn’t they just leave her be?” Worf asked.

“Because like I said, she’s a genius. She basically mashed the Baltimore’s non-warp shuttlepod to the aft of the remnants of the Baltimore itself, came up with a whole new system to extend the shuttlepod’s tiny little deflector using the standard shields, rebuilt the entire operating system, and blasted herself off of what had been listed as a planet too dangerous to approach. She did so many things any reasonable engineer would have called impossible that we all want to know how she did it, so everyone’s been trying to invite her to their project, their station, their ship.

“Now some of her experiments are being put to work in the next generation of warp cores. We’re one of the first two ships getting one so I’ve invited her to come here for the installation. Hopefully for even longer, if we can keep her happy, which is why I need to ask you all about it. Dr. Cortez has been letting me communicate with her directly and I think she’s willing to come, but she has a list of demands. Some of them are a bit weird, so I need some approval here.”

“It’s sad what happened to her but does that give her the right to issue unusual demands?” Riker asked.

“Chances are anything that comes across as strange is because of what she’s been through,” Troi replied. “Victims of severe trauma often put up walls in the form of difficult boundaries, almost challenging people to cross. It’s a way to test those around them to determine who will take them seriously, who is safe to be around.”

“I can guess at some of them, based on what was done to her,” Crusher added. “I imagine she still wants nothing to do with anyone from Starfleet Medical, particularly therapists of any sort.”

“Well that’s part of it,” La Forge said, referring to a list on a PADD. “She doesn’t want to ever have to enter sickbay unless it’s absolutely necessary, and she insists on never being approached by, as she puts it, ‘The Betazoid or any other mind-readers or psychologists or therapists of any kind.’” He shrugged at Troi. “I’ve told her a few times already that you’re only half Betazoid and that you can’t read minds. She just repeats the same thing.”

“That’s fine, Geordi. I completely understand and I don’t take any offence.”

“I do,” Riker grumbled. “Again, I’m sorry she’s been through hell but that’s no reason to talk about you like that, accusing you in advance.”

Troi shook her head. “It’s not personal. She’s establishing an entirely reasonable boundary based on what she’s heard about the Enterprise crew.”

“Speaking of crew, she also wants reassurance that nobody on board has a record of sexual assault or even harassment,” La Forge continued.

“Well I should hope not,” Picard retorted.

“I do not believe so,” Worf replied. “But it is an easy matter to check.”

“Isn’t that something we check for before accepting new crew anyway?” Riker asked.

“Yes sir, for officers,” Worf confirmed. “However we do not perform a full background check on all temporary crew or guests. A conviction of that nature would be flagged for temporary crew but it would require the relevant department head to notice. It is a reasonable request. I can have that confirmation to you by this evening, with the caveat that short-term guests may not be so easily researched, and change frequently.”

“Thanks Worf. She also says she is not willing to participate in any study – casual or formal – regarding her past other than specific technological-based questions. She doesn’t even want to be asked.”

“That’s also reasonable,” Troi said. “She needs space and respect. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“She has also made specific requests in terms of quarters,” Data said. “She wishes to be as close to main engineering as possible, which is something I can readily accommodate since Lieutenant Markey has been moved off of Deck Thirty-One, leaving Room 5334 available.”

“Markey raised a stink about that little L-type room for ages before we agreed to move him,” Riker said. “Is this woman with all of these other demands going to be okay with small quarters in one of the louder parts of the ship?”

“I believe so, sir,” Data replied. “The proximity to main engineering is tied to her other requests to be left alone, which I am certain Geordi will continue to explain in a moment. But she has told him she prefers a small space and she has requested permission to make non-standard modifications to accommodate her specific mobility needs due to her missing leg.”

“What? Missing leg?” Picard asked incredulously.

“That’s one of the other points of interest for Starfleet Medical,” Crusher replied. “She’s the youngest self-amputee on record. When the Baltimore crashed, White happened to be alone in their small sickbay with all of the adult crew on the bridge. The ship crashed nose-down nearly up to its nacelles, so the bridge and other fore compartments were crumpled back. A bulkhead was shoved back into sickbay, landing on her leg just below the knee, I believe, crushing it completely. Somehow she had the presence of mind to have the computer assist her in using tools she was able to reach to sever the remainder of the leg and stop the bleeding with a dermal regenerator.”

Picard said, “I am beginning to think this is some sort of sick joke. Are you telling me a child in the middle of a crash situation was able to successfully cut off her own leg and survive for years after with no adult help whatsoever?”

“Klingon children have been known to persevere in perilous situations on their own,” Worf said.

“She’s not a Klingon,” Riker said. “And she was really young, wasn’t she?”

“She was about five, if I recall correctly,” Crusher replied.

“That is correct, Doctor,” Data confirmed.

“I’m with the captain on how unlikely this all sounds. I remember it all coming out now but I also remember thinking a lot of it sounded highly inflated to make for a juicy holonews story,” Riker said.

But Picard barely heard him, because at the mention of the child’s age he was once again distracted by an increasingly uncomfortable calculation. He could just make out in his peripheral vision that Troi had turned to look at him, forcing him to employ all of the tricks he’d learned over the years to try to keep his feelings to himself.

“Oh it’s all too real,” Crusher replied. “Like I said, I’ve seen the file. The bulkhead did most of the work, and thankfully she’s just the sort of person with a fighting spirit enough to do the rest, I guess. It’s not as if she did a professional job, but she saved herself and then learned to live like that.”

“Indeed,” Data said. “She has subsequently refused to be fitted with a permanent prosthetic. She apparently wears a temporary one when necessary but has requested a small room where she can affix hand-holds –”

 _“Ogawa to Crusher,”_ came the alert from Crusher’s combadge. _“Lieutenant Negu’s labour has suddenly progressed.”_

“Understood and on my way,” Crusher replied as she rose from the table. “I have to go. Geordi, please assure her that the entire medical department will accommodate her needs. All she needs to ever do is ask and we’ll find a way that works for her.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

At the door she turned and added, “It’s about time someone reached a hand of real kindness for this poor girl, and if we’re supposed to be the best ship in the fleet it behooves us to be the best in terms of providing a safe place for someone who has been through more than her fair share of suffering.”

La Forge said, “Exactly. We’re the flagship. We should get her here above everyone else who wants her because we’re the best and it seems only fair to offer her the same.”

Crusher nodded and left, still looking distressed from the conversation.

La Forge continued, “Most of the rest of this is small stuff that we can easily accommodate, like a seated workstation in engineering when feasible, apparently she has a non-standard sleep cycle and doesn’t want to be held to a shift schedule, never being ‘snuck up on and touched or grabbed from behind’ which obviously nobody would do anyway, and a few other things that I can absolutely handle. Oh, and meeting you, of course, but you already know that,” he said to Data.

Data nodded. “That would be inevitable if she spends time in engineering. I am also quite interested in discussing some of her publications with her.”

“Why you specifically?” Riker asked.

“Apparently the way she figured out how to escape The Institute was to present a case for emancipation to Captain Avila in the JAG office by directly hacking through command security to dump a file right on the Avila’s terminal,” La Forge said. He looked at Picard to add, “And a major part of her case rested on your defence of Data against Maddox’s attempt to have him declared Starfleet property for the purposes of experimentation.”

“She saw herself as the victim of involuntary experimentation, so when she gained access to related Starfleet records and searched on that topic, my case came up,” Data explained.

“Well she’s not wrong,” Troi said. “Rundell was effectively experimenting on her and the other feral children. It turned into a major scandal in my circles.”

La Forge added, “Apparently she didn’t realize she already had the basic human rights Maddox was arguing Data didn’t have, so instead of just saying, ‘Hey, I don’t belong in here,’ she used the arguments from that case to prove why she shouldn’t be kept caged.”

“And now she’s reaching out for someone she perceives as a likely ally,” Troi surmised.

“I am entirely willing to serve in that regard,” Data said.

“But that brings me to the last thing, and this is the really big, really weird one,” La Forge said, referring back to the PADD. “She says she has a ‘prior issue’ with someone on board the Enterprise that she doesn’t want to have to discuss with anyone, and this is why she wants quarters near main engineering. She says this is a person ‘in a red uniform’ so she wants everyone in command to just leave her alone. She wants to be able to go from her quarters to engineering with as little interaction with anyone else on board as possible. Don’t ask me for more details than that because I had to stop asking when I could tell she’s not going to budge on this.”

“She seriously expects to never see anyone in red? A third of the personnel on board?” Riker asked incredulously.

“Command staff only comprise twenty-two-point-three percent of the current crew,” Data clarified. “Further, most of those of you wearing red spend most of your time in the saucer section. While her request is very mysterious, it is not that difficult to accommodate in a general sense.”

“Well I’m not going to stay out of engineering just because someone has an issue with someone else in command,” Riker replied. “I’ve never met her so I know I’m not the one she’s avoiding.”

La Forge shrugged. “Data and I actually thought it might be you since you argued against him in the Maddox case.”

“Because I was forced to!”

“We are all aware of that sir,” Data said. “But perhaps she is not.”

“It’s right there in the case record that Captain Louvois ordered me to argue Maddox’s side or else she’d summarily judge against you. If she studied that record –”

“I don’t see much sense in speculating with whom she has an issue without any further information,” Picard interjected in as much of a calm and cautious tone as he could muster. “Mr. La Forge, it sounds as though you have ample valid reason for trying to attract this expert aboard, and as our good Doctor said, Starfleet owes her a debt for all that she apparently continues to give even having been treated so poorly. In regard to her other requests, you may tell her that we will do our best to accommodate her but by no means can we guarantee that she will never come face to face with command staff.”

“There’s no way we can promise that,” Riker echoed.

Picard continued, “We can, however, put out a discreet alert to command staff to simply leave this individual alone as much as possible.”

Riker shook his head. “I still don’t like it. If she’s got an issue with one person, why not just say who that is?”

“Again, it might simply be a test to see if a strange need will be taken seriously,” Troi said. “She might not actually have anyone specific in mind.”

“I get the feeling that she really just wants to be left alone for the most part,” La Forge said. “That’s why I’m also going to give her some private lab space. She seems happy to work within small engineering teams but otherwise doesn’t want to get overwhelmed.”

“It could very well be that she sees command staff as a threat and is making an excuse of a mysterious, unnamed person to justify that,” Troi surmised. “It’s not unusual to fear authority, especially for someone who has been through the sorts of things she has endured. I bet if she feels that her concerns are taken seriously, these lines she’s drawing in the sand will fade away. I also agree with Beverly that we have an opportunity to right some wrongs done by Starfleet, and there’s a moral imperative to do so to the best of our abilities.”

Picard abruptly rose and said, “Good. We leave it in your hands, Mr. La Forge. Number One, you have the bridge. I will be in my ready room.” Without another word he strode out the starboard door of the Observation Lounge.

La Forge shrugged, but then smiled at Data. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Riker as he stood. “Go ahead and answer as the captain ordered, but I’m not going to walk on eggshells every time I need to come down to engineering.”

After he too had left, Troi cast a mild glare in his direction, then turned to La Forge with a smile and said, “Geordi, if you need any advice on how to word your reply let me know. I’d like to help make her life a little bit more comfortable as much as I can without having any direct interaction with her.”

“Thanks. I think I can handle it, but I might have you check it before I send it.”

“Of course. I’m here to help.”

* * *

Picard looked away from his desk terminal as the record he’d called up filled the screen. He glanced up long enough to see the photo of a clearly unhappy young woman, half expecting to recognize her immediately. When he didn’t, he turned away again, fearing to read any of it. He stood, straightened his shirt, and went to his replicator.

“Tea, Earl Grey, hot,” he ordered, but then stood staring at it sitting there on the softly glowing replicator platform. Tea made a lot of things better in Picard’s life, but he realized that even tea couldn’t fix what he feared he was about to discover. Eventually he picked up the cup by its handle slowly with his right hand, tapping the warm side with his left index finger. He took a sip, thought to himself, Well there’s nothing for it then, and went back to his terminal to read Starfleet’s profile of this Anna White.

He allowed himself one more brief reprieve by skipping down the file to her impressive list of technical publications, noting a theme amongst the titles; though she clearly had expertise in several areas, they mostly boiled down to doing unexpected things with mismatched technology and unusual materials.

Schwartz, S., & White, A. (2367) Reviewing Primary Findings from The SS Baltimore. Journal of the Institute for Unauthorized Experiments, 42(3), 77-81.  
White, A, & McNeil, T. (2367) Alternative Protocols and Subroutines for Non-Standard Replicator Functionality in Emergency Situations. Journal of Starfleet Technology, 182 (4), 146-154.  
Cortez, R., Adams, E., Mcleod, P., & White, A. (2368). “Dulling The Sawblade: Alternative Materials Research into Lowering Peak Transitional Thresholds.” Daystrom Institute Journal, 108(2), 47–65.  
White, A., Bendis, M., & Miller, R.X. (2368) “Shield Displacement Strategies for Deflector Compensation.” Journal of Starfleet Technology, 183 (3), 102-135.  
Schwartz, S., Huang, L., & White, A. (2368) “Analysis of Non-Standard Materials in Warp Field Generation on SS Baltimore.” Journal of the Institute for Unauthorized Experiments, 43(2), 35-39.  
Huang, L., Cortez, R., Mcleod, P., & White, A. (2368) “New Applications for Trellium Derivatives.” Starfleet Materials Research Quarterly, 92(3), 102-105.  
White, A., & Russell, S.. (2368) “Atypical Bulkhead Hybridization Techniques.” Cambridge Journal of Materials Science & Metallurgy, 191 (6), 412-451.  
Adams, E., Cortez, R., & White, A. (2369). “Non-Standard Warp Field Generation Methodologies.” Journal of the Cochrane Institute, 210(2), 173-175.  
Kiyohira, S., Cortez, R., Mcleod, P., & White, A. (2369) “Interphasic Fusion in the Construction of Warp Plasma Conduits.” Daystrom Institute Journal, 109(2) 83-97.  
Schwartz, S. (2369) “Using What You Have – Profile Interview with Anna White of The SS Baltimore.” Journal of the Institute for Unauthorized Experiments, 44(2), 104-105.  
Cortez, R., Mcleod, P., & White, A. (2369) “Improvements in Dispersion-Strengthened Woznium Carbmolybdenide Application in Matter Reactant Injectors.” Daystrom Institute Journal, 109(4) 83-97.

But all the while he felt the pull of his attention upwards to the listed birth information, and with another sip of his tea, he finally gave in and looked.

Anna White  
Species: Human  
Gender: Female (she/her)  
Affiliation: Daystrom Institute, Materials Research Division  
Rank: Specialist  
Occupation: Consultant – see Contact  
Status: Varies – see Contact  
Born: 22368.4 / 15 05 2345, Starfleet Medical Academy, San Francisco, California, USA, Earth  
Mother: Meredith White  
Father: unknown, DNA automatch refused by mother on 22368.6  
Other Living Relatives: unknown  
Marital Status: single  
Current residence: #302 18 Mill Road, Howlett End, GB  
Contact: Restricted, via Daystrom Institute only (Dr. Raihana Cortez) effective 46124.6 / 15 02 2369

Picard closed his eyes and tried to calculate the time difference between the last time he’d been with Meredith and the listed birthdate. “Computer, access my personal log files referencing Meredith White and display stardates of all entries.”

The computer replied, “Accessing personal log database,” and a moment later showed him a list. He knew the outlying later ones were his records of remorse at having handled the breakup badly and his subsequent mention of Meredith when he first heard about the loss of the Baltimore, but the dates that stuck out to him were 21627.3 and 21707.2. Those framed the month the Stargazer underwent significant repairs after what he now considered a ridiculously maverick mission chasing down pirates through the asteroid belt on the edge of the Bilana system. They’d caught the pirates but sustained heavy damage, necessitating a return to Earth for several weeks.

He’d intended to break things off with Meredith upon his arrival back on Earth, already sensing their seven-month romance was fracturing due to different long-term expectations, mostly insofar as he’d had none and she’d clearly developed several. Her messages to him had become increasingly needy, and he’d thought it best to call the whole thing off once he saw her. But then she’d met him at his temporary Starfleet accommodations in that perky little blue dress that matched her eyes, grinning ear to ear for knowing the effect it would have on him that evening. It had worked, and when she’d left his quarters the next afternoon he’d recorded that 21627.3 log.

Now, twenty-six years later, he sighed and tapped the record to play the entry, shaking his head at his younger self, still with hair, still with such arrogant swagger.

 _“Personal log, Jean-Luc Picard, stardate 21627.3,”_ his old self started, then laughed, looking away from the camera. _“Oh, she’s done it to me again. Meredith, why can’t I shake you? Nights like that can make a man agree to almost anything.”_ He wagged his finger in the air. _“But I didn’t agree. I didn’t. I know what she wants and it’s just not going to happen. She can twist me six ways from Sunday but I’m not going to propose. I can’t be a married man. I don’t have time for that nonsense. And anyway, she’s stationed here at HQ. These last few months of hurried visits here and there were a lot of fun at first but it’s getting tedious. Cumbersome.”_ He shook his head slowly. _“No, I am not getting trapped in this.”_ He laughed again. _“But oh she’s getting under my skin, isn’t she? Not to mention all over my skin,”_ he said with a flirtatious grin into the camera.

The elder Picard winced at his younger self’s crassness.

 _“I don’t know what I’m going to do. We’re going to be here for at least a month. Do I end it now and have to listen to her complain about it the whole time, or do I keep us both entertained until it’s time to go?”_ He groaned and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. _“Seems to me we all benefit if I play along a bit more, I suppose. Then again that risks letting her get her hooks in deeper. I guess I’ll just have to see how it goes.”_ He grinned again at the camera and ended the log.

Sitting in his ready room in 2370, Picard sighed, knowing exactly how it had gone and not wanting to review the 21707.2 log he recalled recording in fury just after their final argument. He knew he’d used incredibly inappropriate language to Meredith in person and then later in the log as well.

He’d been a few days away from taking the Stargazer back out and figuring out how to end things with Meredith when she shifted from hinting about marriage to outright insisting it was about to happen. All of a sudden she was talking about joining him on the Stargazer as his wife and starting a family. He’d reacted poorly, accusing her of insanity, of trying to trap and control him, of manipulating him, of all sorts of terrible things. She’d been so oddly adamant about having children – something she’d never mentioned before – and now his blood ran cold as he remembered what she’d said and how she’d stood as she said it, with her hands over her belly. He’d told her under no circumstances did he ever want to have children, least of all with her. When she cried and shouted that he was the love of her life, he’d viciously replied, “Well you’re not the love of mine.” He remembered how pale she’d gone before she stumbled out of the room. That was the last time he ever saw her. 

The day before the Stargazer left, she sent him a message begging to talk to him again, but he never replied, and the guilt of that along with his unnecessarily cruel words and realizing he’d lead her on had haunted him when he heard about the Baltimore’s unhappy end with her aboard.

But never before this day had he thought about what she might have actually been trying to tell him. He looked at the dates again: mid-August 2344, then mid-September. In May the next year Meredith had given birth to a daughter and not even bothered to tell him.

Picard counted the months, then leaned forward with his head in his hands, muttering under his breath, “Oh Meredith, what have you done?”

He felt dizzy and a little nauseated. He’d always been sure to get his annual birth control shot, but he knew full well efficacy was never one hundred percent and only close to it if both partners had had it. Had she skipped it? Was this deliberate? Had she meant to trap him or was it an accident?

These questions were swirling in his mind when there was a chime at his door. He briefly considered ignoring it, but everyone on the bridge knew he was there. He turned off his screen and barked, “Come.”

Troi entered, crossed her arms, waited for him to say something, and then sat down in front of him when he remained silent. “Captain,” she said, “I can tell you’re upset about something even from out there on the bridge.”

“I’m not sure I wish to discuss it at this time.”

“Are you asking me to leave?”

They stared each other down for a moment before Picard sighed, looked away, and muttered, “Would there be any point?”

“Captain, if you truly wished me to leave, I’d go. But we always go through this and you always feel better after you’ve confided in me. Or if not me, I’ll send Will in here and –”

“No, please, no,” Picard said. “I may be mistaken, but I have an awful feeling I’ve unwittingly been party to a terrible injustice, and I wish very much to wake up now and find this is all a ridiculous nightmare.”

“This has to do with Anna White?”

“Mm.”

“You mentioned you knew her mother. Is that the problem? Do you feel responsible for the child of an old friend?”

Picard sat back, unable to look Troi in the eye. “Meredith was more than a friend.”

“Oh, I see,” Troi said, but then her eyes grew wide. “Oh no, Captain!”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said, rising to his feet and looking out his narrow window into the endless sea of stars. “It’s all conjecture.”

“You think you’re this girl’s father?!”

“I don’t know!” he snapped. “I’ve never heard of her before today!”

Troi rose and came to his side, hands out in placation. “All right, let’s just think this through. When were you –”

“I’ve just been through my logs and her file and the dates match.”

“Okay. How exclusive were you and –”

“Meredith begged me to start a family. I soundly rejected the idea and we broke up over it, but partly because I was already finding her to be too…clingy. It’s unlikely that she would have been with someone else at the same time. Anything is possible, of course, but…” He sighed again, shook his head, and then whispered, “I swear I had no idea there even might’ve been a child. It never even occurred to me.”

“She’s never tried to contact you? Anna, I mean?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Computer, search all of my incoming messages for anything from anyone named Anna White.”

The computer replied, “Searching,” and then a moment later said, “No messages within stated parameters.”

“I could just be wildly speculating,” Picard said.

“Or perhaps she herself doesn’t know.”

“Her record lists no known father and Meredith appears to have rejected the automatic matching system.”

“Oh dear.”

“What?”

Troi shrugged. “Well if I’d been spurned by my lover and the child I was carrying had been ‘soundly rejected’ as you say, I might just well be angry enough to minimize the chance said lover could ever come into my child’s life by blocking the medical systems from matching him in the first place.”

“Then again, Meredith could have been blocking some other man for some other reason,” Picard said.

“You don’t believe that, though.”

“No. No I don’t.” He sunk back into his chair and muttered, “Damn.”

Troi returned to the other chair as well. “We should bring Beverly in on this.”

Picard looked aghast. “Absolutely not!”

“Why not? She can advise us on whether or not she can match you now.”

“I’m fairly certain since this Anna person is an adult she’d have to consent to any DNA matching herself at this point, and the last thing I want right now is to let this potential scandal out of the bag, especially on mere supposition!”

“It’s not very much of a scandal, is it? You wouldn’t be the first man to find out he’d unknowingly fathered a child.”

“It’s unbecoming to an officer of my rank.”

“You were perfectly supportive when Worf learned that he was Alexander’s father.”

“That’s different.”

“Why, because you’re the Captain?”

“Damned right! I’m supposed to set an example with my behaviour!”

“So set an example and reach out to this young woman to see what she may need from you.”

“I should think that’s a little late! Why else would she issue an edict that command staff leave her alone?”

“As we discussed in the meeting, there could be many reasons for that.”

Picard laughed bitterly. “Oh no. No, no, no, no. If it’s true, or even if she thinks it’s true, if Meredith thought it was true, can you imagine how much she must despise me? A child, all alone in such dire straits, no doubt crying to the heavens day after day for rescue only to be unanswered for nearly two decades? If she has any inkling that she’s my daughter she must see me in a horrible light indeed. I can’t say in good conscience that I’m particularly impressed with myself at the moment.”

“All right, then what do you propose to do about it?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t the foggiest notion of where to start. She seems to keep telling the world, ‘Leave me be,’ so who the hell am I to come knocking at her door and say, ‘Hello, I might be your father!’? And what if I’m wrong? What a palaver that’d be. There’s frankly not much I can do at the moment.”

“You’re going to have to figure something out once she comes aboard, assuming Geordi is successful in convincing her.”

“He didn’t say when, did he?”

“No, but it must be before this new warp drive is installed. We’re due at Starbase 58 in about three weeks, which would be a sensible route for her to get on board and a reasonable time frame. That’s not much time.”

“Well she won’t be here before we have this cultural exchange coming up with the Iyaarans in four days’ time. Perhaps after I’m back from Iyar we’ll have more information, or my head will have stopped spinning, or something.”

“I still think you should tell Beverly.”

“No!”

“Captain, if you have a possible genetic link to someone coming on board, your Chief Medical Officer needs to be aware of that.”

Picard lifted his hands defensively. “Perhaps, but not now, not today. Deanna, I need some time to think about all of this. Please, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m not ready to seek help yet, not from you or Beverly. Can we please just keep this to ourselves for now, at least until after the cultural exchange?”

“Fine. But you can’t just bury this and hope it works out later. You do need to be prepared for a variety of contingencies before she comes on board.”

“I know. I’ll consider such things later.”

 _“Captain,”_ came Worf’s voice over the comm. _“You have an incoming subspace communication from Admiral Nechayev.”_

“Understood Mr. Worf. Patch her through,” Picard replied. He raised his eyebrows at Troi and muttered, “It appears to be my lucky day.”

Troi smiled encouragingly at him as she stood and left. 

Picard glanced at the now-cold remnants of tea in the cup on his desk and longed for something considerably stronger before having to speak with Nechayev, but nonetheless straightened his shirt, put on his best diplomatic smile, tapped his terminal and said, “Good afternoon, Admiral, what can I do for you?”

* * *

#### Stardate 47083.6 (Saturday 01/31/2370, 12:20) – Shuttlebay Two

Six days later, Picard maintained yet another diplomatic smile as the three Iyaaran ambassadors boarded their vessel and left the Enterprise. However, as soon as they’d cleared the bay he let the facade slip away.

Troi asked, “Are you all right, Captain?”

“I suppose so. That was a fascinating experience, but not one I care to repeat. How did you find your ambassadors?”

Troi grimaced. “I won’t be able to look at chocolate for a week.”

“Good heavens.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Riker said with a laugh. “She got the easy one. It’s our poor Mr. Worf here who needs recovery.”

“I am fine,” Worf grumbled.

“You just said your experience was ‘excruciating’!” Riker said.

“I am fine with ‘excruciating’,” Worf replied. Then he turned to Picard. “Request permission to…recuperate. Sir.”

“By all means, Mr. Worf.”

Worf nodded and left, limping slightly and still clutching his arm to his side.

Picard’s brows lifted as Riker said, “I think he made a new friend.”

“Oh hush, Will,” Troi said. “You’re lucky ambassador Byleth didn’t stick with you after all. If seeking to antagonize was his goal, he’d have found your buttons easily enough.”

“Me?” Riker asked with exaggerated innocence. “I’m as cool as a cucumber!”

“A nice, healthy cucumber salad sounds about perfect right now,” Troi said tiredly as the three headed to the door.

“Voval told me in the end that Byleth sought to experience antagonism and Loquel sought pleasure,” Picard said. “Am I to understand they succeeded in these goals?”

“Ambassador Loquel certainly learned the pleasure of dessert, yes, and the less said about how far Byleth pushed Worf the better,” Troi explained. “How was your meeting with the first minister?”

“We never got there,” Picard said.

“Why not?” Riker asked.

“It was all a ruse. Voval simulated a crash and used a holographic projection device to trick me into thinking he was a human woman trapped in the remains of a Terellian freighter she alleged crashed there seven years ago. It was all a simulation designed to experience love.”

“Love?” Troi asked incredulously. “But you were only gone a short time!”

“Precisely,” Picard said. “Voval realized he’d failed in his quest when I explained to him that human love is more complicated than putting two people in a room together and waiting for sparks to start.”

“So you didn’t fall in love, then?” Riker asked with a barely contained grin.

Picard gave him a mild glare in response, and then continued, “As I said, fascinating but hardly a good time.” They entered a turbolift, Picard called out, “Bridge,” and they began to hurtle through the ship.

“Even if I did have a good time, it’s worn me out,” Troi said.

“Indeed, Counsellor. I intend to record my logs on the matter and then call it an early day. You ought to do likewise.”

They stepped out onto the bridge where Riker took command as Picard went into his ready room with Troi close behind. He turned to her as the door closed behind her and asked, “Was there something else you wanted?”

“We do still need to discuss that other matter.”

Picard dropped his bag on the small sofa and began to cross the room. “Hm? What other matter?”

“Your potential parenthood?”

Picard stopped short of reaching the replicator. “Counsellor, I have just spent the better part of two days aboard a crashed freighter with a young woman named Anna who claimed to be in love with me. The very last last thing I wish to contemplate now is whether I do indeed have a daughter named Anna who also lived for many years on a crashed ship on a barely habitable planet.” He turned towards the replicator, ordered his tea, took it, and went to his desk. “When I discovered I was being duped by Voval I briefly wondered if the Iyaarans possessed some sort of psychic powers and had pulled the name right out of my own head.”

Troi continued to look at him expectantly.

He took another sip. “The fact is there’s no evidence I am any relation to her at all.”

“That’s not how you felt a week ago.”

“A week ago I was in shock at a terrible tale involving a former lover’s child. I’ve had plenty of time in these last two days stuck on that freighter to consider the whole matter, and the more I thought about it the more I realized that I was on the Stargazer for much of my relationship with Meredith. She had ample time to dally about with as many other lovers as she liked while I wasn’t around.”

“You implied that was unlikely given her feelings for you.”

Picard set his tea down roughly on the desk. “Yes well the whole bloody business is unlikely, isn’t it? This girl has had several years to get in touch if she thinks I’m her father, and yet she hasn’t, so it’s just as likely that she is either unaware or knows of some other father or doesn’t care one way or the other.”

Troi sat down opposite him. “You’re frustrated by the uncertainty.”

“Damned right I’m frustrated! It’s all wild speculation I can’t do anything about, so why torture myself with it? All I want to do now is complete my logs from our encounter with the Iyaaran, get some rest, and then finally get ready for my trip to Dessica Two. I’ve been planning this trip to the ruins of Nafir for nearly a year now so I’m not going to let a decades-old argument with a dead woman cloud my mind and dampen my spirits.”

“You’re still going to Dessica? Are you planning to return early, then?”

“What for?”

“You were originally scheduled to return after our stop at Starbase 58 but I talked to Geordi yesterday and he said he’s confirmed White will come aboard when we’re there.”

“And?”

“Well don’t you want to be here?”

“Why? Even if I was aboard, I’m hardly going to greet her, am I? If I’m away then so much the better for her then to have one less officer in red to fret about. And speaking of, I’ve given a lot of thought to that and I’m increasingly convinced it’s Will she’s angry at for arguing against Data’s rights. Given that she read that case while searching for evidence to emancipate herself, his arguing against must’ve come across as exceedingly unfair regardless of him being forced to do it.”

Troi scrutinized him. “You don’t believe that.”

“What I believe right now is that I’m exhausted, I want to drink my tea in peace, do my job, and cease considering wild possibilities about the ancestry of someone I’ve never even met and am unlikely to meet by her own stipulation.”

“So you’d rather consider the ancestry of the Romulan settlement at Nafir?”

“Precisely,” he said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea at her.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to your tea and we can re-examine the issue when you’re back from your archaeological holiday.”

“If you wish.”

Troi pressed her lips together, rose, and left.

Picard let out a triumphant little, “Hmph,” and began recording his log of his encounter with the Iyaaran.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna White comes aboard the Enterprise for the first time. Picard despairs at Nafir.
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47118.9 (Friday 02/13/2370, 09:33) – Deck Six – Transporter Room Three

“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” La Forge said, clapping his hands together and grinning widely as he and Data entered the transporter room.

“That is the third time you have said that in the last thirty-seven hours,” Data pointed out.

“It’s still true!” La Forge looked to the crewman at the console. “Are we ready?”

“Not quite yet, sir. There are four people coming aboard and one has not yet reported to the departure point on the Starbase side.”

“I hope that’s not our guest,” La Forge muttered to Data.

“There is insufficient information to speculate.” Data watched his friend perform several physical acts of impatience: crossing and uncrossing his arms, looking around the room idly, sighing, and putting his hands on his hips. “Does moving about frequently help to alleviate your unease at the delay?”

La Forge frowned in confusion for a moment, then laughed a little. “No, not really, Data. I guess I’m just a bit nervous that something will go wrong. After all of my work to –”

“Pardon me sir, but they’re ready now,” said the crewman.

“Then go ahead,” La Forge replied.

The familiar glow of transporters in action took over the elevated pad. Mere seconds later four people stood upon it: two of the Enterprise’s regular crew returning from distant travels, a new addition to the terraforming crew they’d be taking to Doraf Prime in the next few days, and another unfamiliar face at the back, almost hiding for a moment while the three uniformed officers quickly stepped down and left the room with polite nods to La Forge and Data as they passed.

That fourth person was a short, pale young woman with brown hair in two French braids that terminated in little rolled buns at the back of her head. Data noticed the right one had become partially uncoiled, and he also immediately noticed her otherwise typical gold engineering specialist coveralls were a poor fit for her; baggy in the shoulders with rolled cuffs both at the ankles and wrists. Instead of standard black boots or shoes, she wore strange metallic grey shoes that looked almost like socks with a barely discernible sole.

Both Data and La Forge also noticed her obvious limp as she tentatively approached them. She bent her knees in a sort of mini curtsey. “How do you do? I’m Anna White. I know who you both are, Mr. La Forge, Mr. Data.”

“It’s great to meet you,” La Forge said.

She smiled nervously and then rapidly blurted, “I’m sorry we’re all late. The one in blue came running in at the last minute. I’ve been there for hours! Why, I couldn’t sleep a wink, I’ve been so nervous and excited and…” She turned to look up at Data, her smile flickering between enormous and restrained, as if she was trying to cover up her own excitement but intermittently failing. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling already. I can’t help it. The whole way to the Starbase I was rehearsing a million different versions of this conversation and nothing was right and even if it was now that I’m here I can’t remember a word of any of it other than to say I’m really excited to meet you. Both of you,” she quickly clarified, briefly looking at La Forge but then turning her eyes back up to Data. “Because I really think you and I have an enormous amount in common. I’ve read all about you and I kept thinking over and over again how much I just want to be your friend.”

A moment of awkward silence hung in the air, but then she broke it by exclaiming, “Oh no, I’ve blurted it out and it sounds really weird. I’m wrecking all of it already and all I meant to do was tell you that I hope we can be friends. I mean both of you, as friends, with me, because it’s a back and forth thing, because you can’t just have it one way, but with each of you, oh Jiminy Crickets I sound like an idiot.” A look of desperate horror replaced the smile and her whole body began to cringe.

“Hey, it’s fine,” La Forge said reassuringly, though it did little apparent good.

But when Data said, “Friendship is always welcome,” she looked as if he had just thrown her a lifeline; a much calmer smile took over her face, spreading out in infectious joy such that La Forge found himself doing likewise. Data’s expression remained unchanged.

“Thank you,” she said at a much slower pace. “I’m never good at these sorts of things. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should wait for that late person or not or ask to come over on my own because memorizing technical specs is easy but Starfleet policies are weird and contradictory all over the place. People stuff is weird stuff.”

“Spoken like a true engineer! For what it’s worth, you can come and go without having to wait for others to transport over.” La Forge pointed to the small duffel she was carrying and asked, “Do you have more luggage back on the Starbase?”

She shook her head. “This is everything I own.”

“If you require new coveralls, our replicators can provide whatever size you require,” Data said.

Anna looked down at her baggy sleeves. “Oh this? This is deliberate. I don’t like restrictive clothing and snug cuffs bug me. Plus I’ve altered the standard replicator pattern to add extra pockets to keep my hands free so I can get around more easily. And these,” she said as she lifted up her right foot, “I promise they’re beyond requirements for safety in an engineering environment, but they let me balance and move around the way I need to. Which isn’t normal. I should warn you about that. I’ve found humans tend to think in very eye-level, horizontal ways but I’m more vertically inclined. Also it’s not like this foot needs protection anyway,” she said with an awkward little laugh and shake of her right leg.

“Don’t worry about it,” La Forge said. “Anyway we shouldn’t stand here in this room all day. Come on, let us take you down to your quarters.”

She nodded enthusiastically, but as soon as they approached the transporter room doors her whole posture changed once again; this time defensively, scanning around as if she anticipated a threat in the corridor beyond. When there was nobody there, she straightened up again but continued looking at everything.

La Forge and Data exchanged a curious expression as they directed her towards the nearest turbolift. As they entered, Data said, “We have assigned you to Deck Thirty-One, Room 5334. I believe it will meet your specifications.”

La Forge called out, “Deck Thirty-One, section four-two,” and the turbolift car began to move.

Anna spread her hands in front of herself as if she had an invisible screen there and was swiping between pages, prompting the two men to once again look at each other in bafflement. “Oh yes, by the ballast core. That’ll do nicely, thank you,” she said as she squeezed her hands shut for a moment as if she was closing this imaginary screen. She once again looked around as if trying to observe every detail of the ship. “Dr. Cortez was right. This ship is huge.”

“Yeah, even if you know the specs, forty-two decks can suddenly seem like a lot more than it looks on a PADD,” La Forge replied.

“It was the Galaxy class’ hugeness that convinced me to answer your initial request. Dr. Cortez said it was more like being in a city in space than in a scary little tin can, so it’s easier to keep social engagements limited.”

“Definitely. I’m pretty sure Data’s the only person on board who knows everyone else’s name.”

Data’s head tilted briefly, but then he nodded.

“Dr. Cortez also said your arboretum has real grass in it.”

“Indeed,” Data replied. “It is open almost all of the time to anyone on board at their leisure, should you wish to visit.”

She smiled up at him again. “That’s good to know, thank you. I will probably hide out in the lower decks mostly, but real grass is a serious temptation. I used to dream of it when I was on the Baltimore and it was the hardest thing to say goodbye to leaving Earth to come here.”

When the turbolift doors opened, she once again checked the corridor suspiciously, as if she expected someone unpleasant to jump out at her. La Forge stepped around her and pointed to a door opposite the turbolift stop. “Here we are, 5334. Some of us were worried it wasn’t enough for a guest of your eminence, but –”

“Eminence? Geez Louise, nobody’s ever used that grand a word for me before! Besides,” and then she began to quietly sing, _“all I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair, oh wouldn’t it be –”_ she paused as the quarters opened before her and then finished in a whisper, _“Loverly.”_

As all three stepped inside, she turned around to take it all in, grinning in particular at the heavy beam bisecting the quarters along the ceiling. “Why, that’s perfect, thank you!”

“It should provide ample support for the hand-holds you said you wished to add,” Data said.

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me!” She dropped her bag on the table and peered into the head. “A water shower! Oh, I didn’t suppose you’d grant me that request too!”

“It was no problem at all,” La Forge said. “Several people on board have them.”

“I know, but that was me seeing how far I could push things, if I’m honest. I fell in love with water showers after I first fled Starfleet on Earth because I’d never had one before and usually I’m terrified of being in the water but it turns out I love the rain, and a shower is like rain and not a big scary ocean or anything.” She poked her head into the bedroom. “This is really all perfect. I mean it. Thank you both so very much.”

“You are most welcome,” Data replied.

“And there’s more. If you’d like to come back out to the corridor, Specialist White,” La Forge said approaching the door.

“Wait, you don’t actually have to call me that all the time, do you?”

He paused, then awkwardly asked, “Is there a problem with that?”

“Well it’s just not me. Nobody’s used my last name for most of my life, and I don’t really care about Starfleet’s label of me as ‘specialist’. If I’m busy thinking or doing and someone calls out, ‘Attention Specialist White!’ it’s not even going to occur to me to answer because that’s not how I label myself in my head. Would it be a huge breach of protocol to simply call me Anna?”

“I guess not,” La Forge said. “Most of us in engineering go by first names anyway. It’s the command types that care more about titles. We engineers care about getting things done and it’s more efficient to say, ‘Hey Reg, hand me that hyper spanner!’ than say out a full name and title. So sure, if you’re happy with Anna, that works for me. And you can feel free to call me Geordi.”

“You may dispense with my title as well,” Data said.

“That’s a huge relief, thank you both again. This is all going so much better than I worried about.” Her smile faded a bit as she added, “But of course that makes me worry that there’s some terrible thing about to happen to punish me for letting my guard down.”

“Hopefully not,” Geordi said with a smile. “Come on, I’m hoping I have more things to show you that will make you happier still.”

Back out in the corridor, Geordi pointed to the turbolift doors opposite her quarters. “As you’ve just seen, you’ve got a turbolift stop right off your doorstep so that should minimize interaction for you, and if you don’t want to risk ending up in a lift car with anyone else, just follow this corridor straight ahead and that wall up there is the side of one of the two main vertical Jefferies tubes that go right down to main engineering. They’re escape routes so they’re always open, but the branch points at each deck do require clearance. I’d prefer to give you a combadge but technically you’re a guest, not crew, so security protocols mean I can’t do that unless you decide to stay on permanently.” He grinned at her and added, “And I’m going to admit to you right up front that I’m hoping you like it here enough to consider that, even after we’ve got the new core installed.”

“That’s um…that’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

“Now don’t worry about the clearance side of things because I’m going to set up codes for you so you can get wherever you need to go in the tubes. It’s just that those codes are linked to me so if anything goes wrong, I’m responsible.”

“Oh dear! I’ll do my best not to cause any trouble.”

“I know. I’m not worried. And I’m sure you know how to use a standard comm panel,” he said, pointing to the one running along the corridor wall. “Pretty much anywhere in the ship you can contact Data or I whenever you need to. Most guests don’t get access to senior staff because frankly half the point of not handing out combadges to every visitor is to make sure certain VIPs we quietly refer to as ‘Very Irritating People’ can’t bug the captain every five seconds, but I’ve already given you full clearance to call Data or I at any time. And of course you can contact anyone else who isn’t senior staff or otherwise restricted as needed, plus you can always call for medical assistance or security assistance.”

“Got it,” she said.

“I know you said you want to keep down this end of the ship and that’s fine, but you’re more than welcome to make use of the ship’s recreational facilities up in the saucer section any time you want.”

Data clarified, “Some facilities such as the holodecks experience peak busy periods during which bookings are required, but most facilities are open for general use. If you wish for a tour, either of us would be happy to perform that function.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on that someday, but for now it’s a bit overwhelming.”

“I figured you might feel that way, and like I said, I’m on a mission to make you want to stay, so we’ve set up something for you over here that I’m hoping you’ll really like,” Geordi said as he approached the next door down the corridor. It opened for him and he gestured for them to all enter.

Inside was an engineering lab with a large worktable surrounded by four chairs in the centre of the room. To the aft was a console and screen that nearly covered that entire wall. To the fore was a row of cabinets with a utility sink beside a replicator unit.

“This is now your lab,” Geordi explained. “Obviously I’m hoping you’ll work with us down in main engineering as much as possible, but I wanted you to also have your own space where you can work your special brand of magic with the amazing stuff you come up with. That’s a standard food replicator, but it can do small tools and objects as well, and if you need anything bigger we’ll show you where the manufacturing replicators are. I hope this doesn’t sound presumptuous, but I got the feeling from our communications that sometimes you might want to escape the busy atmosphere of main engineering. So whatever you need, whenever you need it, you can bring it up here where nobody will bother you.”

Anna looked around, wide-eyed, her hands over her cheeks. Her eyes welled up with tears.

“Are you all right?” Data asked.

She nodded and said in a quiet, trembling voice, “This is absolutely the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. I feel like any second I’m going to wake up and still be on the transport to Starbase 58 and I’ll be so sad this isn’t real. It’s the very best thing ever.” She shook her head slowly. “Why would you be this kind? I haven’t even done anything to earn it yet.”

“I do not believe true kindness can be earned,” Data replied. “It is my understanding that the very nature of kindness is that it is given without requirement.”

“Yeah, Data’s right. We want you to be happy here, not just merely accommodated. We want you to feel welcome. Hasn’t anyone ever simply been nice to you before?” Geordi asked with a laugh, but it trailed off as he realized by her expression that it was possible nobody had.

Anna shrugged. “Dr. Cortez was nice enough, I suppose, but she kind of had to be. I was a ‘valuable asset’ and I kept running away, so she got good at giving me enough of what I needed to keep me around. But no, nobody’s ever…” she waved her hands around the lab as if she was pointing out something monumental.

Geordi and Data exchanged a look of concern as she turned away from them. Data took a step towards her and said, “I have also observed different behaviours between those who see me as a useful machine versus those who see me as a person. I have learned to appreciate the latter actions as indicators of respect.”

“I suppose that’s what this is, isn’t it?” she asked. “Respect? Not just for what I can do but…for me?”

“Of course it is,” Geordi said. “And if you’re not used to it, then it’s about damned time you got more of it.”

She looked at each of them in turn as she said, “Suddenly the words ‘thank you’ seem so small. I haven’t even been here an hour yet and you’ve both made me feel more welcome than anywhere I’ve ever been before.” She laughed nervously and wiped her cheeks. “You must think I’m very silly.”

“Not at all,” Geordi said. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

She softly sang, _“I think I’m gonna like it here.”_

“I hope so,” Geordi said. “Anyway, you’ve had a long trip so if you want to just hang out up here and get some rest, we’ll leave you to it. But if you’re keen to see main engineering –”

“Oh yes please! I’m knocked a bit sideways by all of this but I’m dying to see the core.”

Geordi gestured towards the door and they ventured forth.

* * *

When the three of them arrived in main engineering, Anna’s face lit up once again and she put her hands over her chest in utter delight. “Why, she has the most beautiful heart, doesn’t she?”

“She does indeed,” Geordi said proudly as they walked up to the warp core. The pulsating glow was steady at a medium speed, indicating that they were already traveling away from the space station at warp. The moving rings of blue light reflected on their faces as they stood by the railing, Anna in the middle, gazing at the intermix chamber and matter injection assembly that stretched up into the decks above.

“Hello gorgeous,” Anna said. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? We’re going to give you a bit of a makeover but don’t you worry, it’s going to be easy peasy and then you’re going to be the belle of the ball.”

“Damn right,” Geordi said, thrilled to have someone else get as excited about the warp drive as he did on a daily basis.

Anna softly sang again, barely discernible over the engine’s thrum, _“And you’ll serenade Venus, you’ll serenade Mars, and you’ll burn with the fire of ten million stars. And in time, and in time, we will all be stars.”_

“That was lovely,” Data said.

“Hm? Oh did I do that out loud? Sorry. I think in song most of the time but I try not to inflict it too much on others. Can’t help myself when she’s singing to us, though.”

“Wait, you hear music coming from the drive?” Geordi asked.

She turned to him. “Don’t you?

“Uh...no?”

“You must listen with more than your ears. You must listen with your heart. I bet she sings you love songs when you’re not even paying attention!”

“Well that’d be the story of my life,” Geordi said with a sigh.

Data’s brow furrowed. “I detect a steady rhythm but no melody. Do you believe you hear music right now other than the song you sang yourself?”

“There’s always music playing in my head. Sometimes a whole bunch of songs overlapping each other. But right now she’s singing…” Anna closed her eyes and waved a hand in time to the beat of the drive. “‘Consider Yourself’ from _Oliver!_ because you’re both making me feel so welcome.”

She hummed a few bars, then became self-conscious and stopped, shrugging sheepishly. “Most of the songs I know are from musicals because when I was alone on the Baltimore all I had was the ship’s computer and it wasn’t much for conversation. So I came up with an imaginary friend I called my Music Man, and Music Man showed me how to find the whole library of historic Broadway musicals in the archives. I had a soundtrack or a movie playing nearly all the time after that, so it keeps going in my head even though it’s not actually playing around me anymore.”

“Intriguing,” Data said. “I am curious: did it help to alleviate loneliness?”

“Oh yes! Having those other voices around all the time let me imagine I was surrounded by people who loved me. I was Dorothy and Annie and Maria – all the Marias! – and those leading ladies were my Aunties. Judy and Julie and Bette and Barbra and Ethel and Idina and Liza and Angela and oh, all of them!”

“Sounds like quite a party,” Geordi said.

“Every day with all of my Aunties! And Gene Kelly too. Oh the crush I had on Gene Kelly! That man wasn’t entirely human the way he could move! The only non-musical movies I ever watched were his just to watch him leap about the place! In the Three Musketeers he climbs up a wall as easily as if he’s strolling down the boulevard! I practiced climbing like he did over and over until I could scale the walls nearly as fast, only of course my walls were also the floor and the ceiling, because,” she made a downward motion with her hand to indicate the direction of the nose of the crashed ship. “I rigged ropes up through the doors so I could get anywhere I needed to be as fast as Mr. Kelly!”

She gave them each a conspiratorial look. “I had it all planned out in my little kid head: despite being obviously dead for centuries, Gene Kelly himself was going to come and rescue me. I mean why not? By the time I was nine years old that seemed just as plausible as anyone else coming for me.” Her joyful expression disappeared for a moment, but then came back as she shrugged and continued, “Anyway, he would dance down from the heavens and I would dance up my ropes to meet him and he’d take me back to Earth on his magical, musical ship made out of stars and butterfly wings and everything would be all right. All the while giving me that sparkling smile of his,” she said with a feigned swoon, but noticing their skeptical expressions she laughed again. “It was a perfectly sweet and innocent nine-year-old’s daydream!”

“It’s good that all gave you the hope you needed to get by,” Geordi said.

“I was always driven to fix the ship and try to get back, but I’m not sure I could’ve gotten through the failures without those glimmers of hope, you know? Oh but I’m babbling too much again, aren’t I? I do that when I’m nervous, but like happy nervous, not sad nervous or scared nervous. If I was sad nervous or really frightened I’d just hide and be silent and you wouldn’t even know I was there, which is probably what you wish right now, because I’m definitely wrecking this, aren’t I?”

Data replied, “I find what you are saying to be fascinating and nothing is being wrecked. I am curious to hear more of how you apply music theory to your experiences.”

“Really?” she asked, bouncing on her toes and clasping her hands together. “Now I’m definitely giddy! I’m liable to burst from it if I don’t climb the walls soon.” She turned to Geordi to ask, “Am I allowed to go up and have a look around?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “And if there’s anything you want to – whoa!” he exclaimed as Anna suddenly leapt upon the railing in front of them, springing up from there to grasp one of the supports for the upper level and swung herself under the railing up there.

“It’s just that I know you’ve made alterations to the magnetic constrictors because I’ve memorized all of your upgrade reports, and I really want to see them in action as much as I can while the shielding is in place, obviously,” she said, bounding about the upper deck from floor to railing to wall console and then back to the railing again as she excitedly examined the core.

“Uh, okay, but we like to stay firmly on the decks,” Geordi said, trying to mask his terror that she was about to fall and get herself injured or killed right in front of him. “And there’s both a ladder and a lift so there’s really no need to –”

“I absolutely love what you’ve done with the constriction segment interfaces because that’s going to make the refit go so much more easily than if we had to build that side of things up from scratch,” Anna said as she took a few quick steps and then launched herself up the wall to grab ahold of the circular ridge around where the matter reaction assembly passed out of main engineering into the decks above. She hoisted herself up to sit on the narrow ledge and inspected the cables, hoses, and conduits housed there like rings around a central pole. “But you know that running your coolant pipes coiled up alongside your EPS conduits can actually create internal plasma drag, right?”

“Hey, we can get you another ladder or some other way to get up there,” Geordi said desperately as he climbed up the ladder to the upper level.

“I mean I know these ones are secondaries but I get the feeling from reading about your upgrades that you’re striving for peak efficiency, so if you push them further apart or get some insulation in between, you’ll get a fraction or two of performance improvement during switchover, especially with the new system.”

Several other engineering staff gathered below to gape at the strange sight of someone up where few of them ever bothered to go. Geordi noticed them, looked back down to an utterly perplexed Data on the main level, then called up to Anna, “We’ve got to get you down from there!”

Anna looked over the edge of the ridge at him in confusion, but then said, “Oh, sorry! I’m fine, perfectly safe. Like I said, I think vertically all the time. But I’ll come down if it’s spooking you, sorry.”

“Wait! Wait!” Geordi shouted. “Don’t jump!”

“I had no intention of jumping. I can climb down quite safely, I promise.”

“Someone get a ladder!” he called out to the gathered onlookers.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry,” Anna said as she fluidly glided off of the ridge, caught the edge in her hands, swung herself over to an angled protrusion on the wall and slid down it to land gracefully on the upper deck. “Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” she said as she walked up to Geordi.

“Right. Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and leaning on the railing. “Please don’t ever do that again. I’m thrilled that you love this stuff as much as I do but I can’t live with the thought of you or anyone else getting hurt in here.”

“Sorry,” she said, all trace of mirth gone as she cringed into herself once more.

“It’s fine. You’re obviously really, really good at that, and I don’t want to stop you from checking out any part of the drive that you want to see, but I’m responsible for safety protocols in here, so if you could please just stick to the usual methods of getting around in here, that’d be great.”

“That was, however –”

Geordi was startled into a leap of his own when Data spoke behind him, having not noticed him come up the ladder a moment before. “Aw hell, Data, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I am sorry,” Data said. “I had no intention of sneaking.”

“No, you didn’t, I’m sorry,” Geordi said, trying to catch his breath. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s my fault for freaking you out,” Anna said, wringing her hands.

“Okay, nothing is anyone’s fault,” Geordi said. He laughed, whistled, and added, “This has been exciting but let’s never do it again. Anna, I’ve never seen anyone climb like that before.”

“Indeed, that was what I was about to say when I accidentally startled you,” Data said.

“Right. Good. Everybody’s fine now,” Geordi said, as if declaring it made it true.

“I promise I’ll try to remember to use the ladder or lift like a normal person from now on,” Anna said.

“Thanks. Why don’t we go to my office down there and get you set up on console access? There are chairs. Reasonably comfortable chairs. Sitting seems like a good plan for now,” Geordi said as he headed over to the ladder.

Anna turned to Data and winced. She whispered, “Did I just blow this?”

“Blow? Ah, as in, ‘blow it’, ‘mess up’, or ‘ruin’. No. Geordi will be fine in a moment. Besides, you were clearly in complete control and unlikely to fall.”

She smiled at him. There was something in her smile that he found oddly compelling, unlike any smile he’d ever seen before.

* * *

#### Stardate 47119.9 (Friday 02/13/2370, 18:26) – Deck Thirty-One – Room 5334, Anna’s Quarters

Once the combined exhilaration and consternation of being in a new place and meeting new people had finally given way to the exhaustion of several days of transport hopping, Anna excused herself to get some rest. By afternoon Data had left for the bridge anyway, Geordi was on to other work, and staring at an LCARS display had started to numb her tapped-out mind.

She tentatively made her way back to Deck Thirty-One, although less nervously than she had been when she first arrived; not because of fast familiarity, but because she’d heard casual conversation between some of the engineering staff that the captain wasn’t currently on board. She’d been careful not to react at the time, but it meant one less thing to worry about, which was good because she’d worked herself into a significant state of worry over her climbing blunder.

At the corridor panel beside her door, she input the code Geordi had given her since she didn’t have a combadge to open the door automatically on approach. He’d said to change it once she returned, so she went inside and immediately did so, setting it to 455412, the decimal-free stardate of what she considered to be her first real scientific publication. It also happened to be a pleasing pattern on the little numerical screen the panel provided.

Anna looked around the room again, trying to work out where to put hand-holds and how to adjust the sparse furniture for maximum mobility, but the act of looking upwards made her head swim with fatigue. She started to undress instead, but then felt very exposed by the uncovered window. She laughed at herself to realize she’d become so easily embarrassed since leaving Covaris Two, but nonetheless went to stand on the sofa beneath the window and peer outside. There was certainly no way anyone could see in unless they were in another ship far too close under any safety protocol, or standing on top of the starboard nacelle with binoculars. She muttered to herself, “Get over it, it’s fine,” and began to undress, tossing her clothes into the cleaning processor.

She winced as she pulled off her artificial leg; she’d had it on much too long throughout the travel and then today, especially having not worn it often in her little British flat. She set it on a chair, promising herself she’d clean out the thigh socket before bed, and then deftly made her way into the shower using whatever was close enough to lean on.

The warm water was, as always, a sweet luxury on her skin. Sonic showers did the job but water was decadent, comforting, enveloping. Anna nearly fell asleep leaning on the shower wall, but then the memory of the look of horror on Geordi’s face popped back into her head and made her cringe again.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she grumbled as she shut off the water, exited the shower, and finished getting ready for bed, completely forgetting to clean the thigh socket as usual. Back in her central room, she once again felt weirdly exposed to the open window, so she hurriedly grabbed the soft pajamas from her duffel and put them on.

She’d never cared much about clothing in her isolated youth, generally wearing smaller versions of the same jumpsuit she wore now. What would have been the point in bothering with anything pretty when nobody could see? Once on Earth and free, she’d tried pretty dresses but with her straight sides they never looked on her like she imagined they would, so she gave up on wearing them unless Dr. Cortez made her attend a function where something nicer than a jumpsuit was required.

But the one article of clothing she rediscovered on Earth that truly made her happy was soft, warm pajamas. On the Baltimore she hadn’t even used a bed; she’d just slept wherever she was when she was tired enough to sleep, still in the jumpsuit or, if it was particularly hot, her underclothes. But England was colder than she was used to, especially during the night – something else she’d forgotten about on Covaris Two, which was gravitationally locked so the area where the Baltimore crashed was always facing the sun. Rediscovering pajamas felt like a victory over the elements, a little bit of civilization most people took for granted. This particular set had become her favourite, becoming even softer and more comfortable with habitual use. The tiny little blue butterflies all over them made her extraordinarily happy; sometimes she counted the ones she could see just for the joy of it.

Having them back on instantly made this room feel more hers, more like a new home. Not that anywhere had ever really been home for her, and not that she thought the Enterprise would be either. She cringed again about the climbing, and then began to worry that she’d babbled too much about music and made a fool out of herself in so many ways, possibly even ones she didn’t realize.

Deciding some sleep would help her quickly escalating blues, she went into the bedroom but took one look at the thin blankets on the bed and frowned. “Computer, what’s the temperature in here?”

“Room temperature is currently set to default of twenty degrees centigrade,” the computer replied.

“Please set temperature in these quarters to twenty-three degrees.”

“Standard temperature for this room is now set to twenty-three degrees centigrade.”

“Thank you,” Anna replied, knowing it was unnecessary but a habit she’d developed on the Baltimore because it felt right to be polite to the only other thing she’d ever spoken to. Likewise, she went over to the replicator and said, “I need another blanket, please.”

“Specify parameters.”

“Display available choices.”

The screen showed several blankets, so she tapped the thickest-looking one. When it was produced, she took it out, unfolded it, examined it, and then requested, “Two more of these, please.” They appeared, she thanked the replicator, threw the blankets over her shoulder and leaned her way on the furniture back to the bedroom.

Halfway through spreading the blankets out, she decided to lie down across the bed for just a moment and ended up falling asleep with them askew over herself, looking very much like a child who still doesn’t quite understand how to sleep in a proper bed.

* * *

#### Stardate 47119.9 – Dessica Two – Wildlands near the Ruins of Nafir

Picard scowled at the arid, rocky landscape in front of him, as if glaring at the mountainous horizon would make a difference. But unlike his crew back on the Enterprise, these rocks, this dirt, and those scrubby bits of vegetation all around seemed disinclined to heed his frustration in any way.

 _Nearly a year’s worth of networking, explanations, negotiations, ingratiations, virtual stacks of forms upon forms upon forms between the Federation and the Romulan Senate, and it only comes to this,_ he thought bitterly.

He’d always considered the term “ruins” a misnomer, because while the remnants of a civilization may indeed be no longer maintained or even usable as they once had been, they weren’t fully “ruined”. They still yielded valuable information and stories to those who were patient and attentive enough, and he’d always had ample patience and attention to pay to places others so callously disregarded as “ruins”.

But as he stood on the edge of what had been the ancient Romulan settlement of Nafir, “ruined” was the only apt word. Someone had been here recently and ruined the entire site. Walls that he knew to have been standing as recently as three months ago – because he’d been required to acknowledge on the forms the supposed good state of said walls – were now toppled. All of the hearths he’d been so eager to see and measure as part of his fascination with Romulan family and social structure had been blasted open, scattering their stones so widely as to mingle with one another in complete disarray.

His heart ached to think of the ancient hands that had built those hearths for their families, how many people had gathered around them in times of hope and need, and how the careful delineation of spaces in a Romulan household had served as representations of Romulan culture: order, honour, togetherness in privacy, rigid hierarchies that nonetheless ensured everyone was included and important. These homes, these hearths, these walls, they had all meant something much more than shelter to the people who had lived here, and they had all meant something much more than archeology to those who had studied them since. They were the echo of life itself.

This callous destruction was a spit in the eye of all of that. It was an affront to everything he valued, to everything that these settlers had valued, and he was sickened to his core.

He’d been so excited the entire trip, even having left his comfortable and familiar Enterprise to travel on increasingly cramped and questionable transports. The rugged hike from the spaceport at Neral Station to Nafir had been filled with eager enthusiasm, all of which had been extinguished as readily as a bucket of water over a campfire when he’d crested the final hill earlier today and beheld the destruction. What tiny hopes had lingered as he searched for anything whole had all been snuffed as well, one by one.

He shook his head. There was nothing here. Nafir was now truly ruined.

He petulantly kicked a nearby stone, the rattle of it through others of its kind striking him as a mocking, rocky laughter. Only the barest shred of maturity kept him from kicking more, from throwing things, from roaring a full scolding at the uncaring sky above.

Instead, he walked partway back up the hill and sat upon a relatively flat surface of a protruding rock. He rested his chin on his hand, completely unaware that his pose looked quite like Rodin’s famous Thinker, though he’d have appreciated the parallel if he’d noticed. But he’d shifted modes from the Picard who loved art and culture to the Picard who could leave no mystery unexamined, no injustice left unanswered.

He considered summoning the Enterprise back early, but quickly abandoned that idea. They were busy light years away on a Federation project that had once before been made to wait while he focused on a Romulan issue. Further, he knew whomever had perpetrated this crime was likely part of an unseemly underground network, not merely bullying fools kicking over sandcastles. The destruction was both too complete and too surgical; someone had been looking for something, and whether they’d found it or not they’d levelled the place to ensure nobody else could gain anything from this site ever again. People like that would not readily answer questions from an illustrious Starfleet vessel in orbit, and those who may have witnessed anything would scurry to cover of darkness at the first hint of a uniform.

Picard looked down at his nondescript clothing, meant to be comfortable for digging in the dirt. Now they’d have to serve to dig around in more figurative dirt to find out who’d perpetuated this monstrosity, though he considered it might be worth a trip around the nasty little settlements of the Free Haven continent of Dessica Two to acquire some second-hand additional elements and give himself a more rugged look with less academic flair. He could also use the travel to assign himself another identity; perhaps as an illegal trader of antiquities similar to Vash, though much grittier and dangerous-looking. After all, he felt dangerous in his righteous anger. _Possibly too dangerous,_ he thought, realizing he needed to keep that anger in check.

 _“In all things, the archaeologist must defend the truth of the past from the pernicious fingers of the future,”_ Professor Richard Galen’s voice rang in his mind.

Picard sat up straight, as if the presence of his mentor dictated a schoolboy’s attentive posture. He smiled briefly at the memory of the father figure who’d understood him better than his actual father, but his smile faded at the nagging memory of his own potential fatherhood. He tried instead to focus on thoughts of Galen and all that he’d learned from him, how very tempting it had been to run off and follow in his footsteps, not only for the thrill of discovery but for the approval in the old man’s eyes. The twinkle that came from shared joy in the dustiest old artifact gave Picard the most wholesome sense of belonging he’d ever known, and he missed Galen terribly. He also still felt responsible for the Professor’s death, regardless of Troi’s assurances otherwise.

“Be glad you didn’t see this, my friend,” he said to the sky above the ruins. He decided in that moment to borrow Galen’s name for the false identity he’d assume, and to bring these vandals to justice in that name, in his mentor’s honour.

Noting that the sky was darkening, he sighed and began to set up camp, still a respectful distance from the ruins even if it hardly mattered anymore. His reverence of the site remained, and in fact was even heightened for the destruction. Once his small campfire was set up, he boiled some water for his tea and heated himself a meal from his pack. These actions comforted him and reminded him of his days back in France as a boy, staying out on a hill in the back meadow far too late, staring into a very different sky so many light years away. His father had always grumbled about it, but Maman had indulged him, much as he’d noticed Marie indulging his nephew René when he’d returned to La Barre a few years ago.

Picard smiled to think of how dark that meadow could get on a moonless night, how the stars overhead sparkled so brightly in contrast, and how that one small light left on in the kitchen window told him Maman was waiting for him with a warm chamomile and biscuit. She’d seldom outright told him she approved, but it was there in her eyes, just as it had been in Galen’s.

Suddenly the image of his mother’s face in his mind was replaced by the photo he’d seen of Anna White. He nearly dropped his tea and had to set it down on the ground beside him as the weight of that issue hit him once again. This time he couldn’t push it away; had that little girl stared up at a starry sky on the other side of the quadrant? _No, she didn’t get to see stars until she returned to them,_ he thought, having read the report that said the Baltimore had crashed on the sunny side of the gravitationally locked Covaris Two. She’d have stared into a scorching sky whenever she looked to the heavens. They’d both been desperate to get up there, but for him it had been seeking the thrill of exploration and adventure; for her, an escape of lonely desolation. Nobody had waited nearby for her with a treat and an understanding sparkle in their eyes.

_If she’s mine, that was my job, he thought, his heart heavy with guilt. And whether she’s mine or not, it’s a damned tragedy for any child to grow up like that._

These notions combined with his despair for Nafir, missing that gentle French meadow, missing his mother, missing Galen, and suddenly feeling very small in the face of too much injustice until he was overwhelmed by profound sadness.

Jean-Luc Picard, the great man who had faced some of the worst foes in this galaxy, who had prevailed through so many terrifying battles, who had emerged triumphant over so many galactic trials and diplomatic tribulations, now sat in the dusty remnants of a long-dead settlement on a wholly unpleasant planet far from home and wept silent tears for that little girl, for those he had lost, and for everyone who had been erased from the terrain before him.

* * *

#### Stardate 47120.3 (Friday 02/13/2370, 21:57) – USS Enterprise – Bridge

The aft turbolift door opened and La Forge walked out onto the bridge. Riker glanced at him from the captain’s chair. “Long day?”

“Yeah, but good,” La Forge replied.

“Everything set for when we reach Doraf in the morning?”

“As much as it can be, given what was brought aboard. I’ve got some final tests and calibrations running overnight but we should deploy on schedule at 0500.”

“Good. This whole thing has waited far too long since we were redirected last time,” Riker said, gesturing to the small seat beside Troi’s empty chair.

“Sometimes waiting isn’t a bad thing,” La Forge replied as he sat down. “This new equipment is going to make terraforming a lot faster. Plus I hear that the new addition to the terraforming team we picked up at Starbase 58 this morning is an expert on integrating this stuff into the older framework so it should all come together nicely.”

“Benet, yes, apparently he’s the hottest rising star of the terraforming world these days. Didn’t you get your new expert today too?”

“We did, and she’s pretty fantastic, isn’t she Data?”

Data turned in his seat at ops to face the other two. “She is indeed impressive.”

“Well anyone who impresses you must be pretty good,” Riker said.

“Indeed, sir.”

La Forge said, “Hey Data, I’ve just finished the recalibration of the neutrino spectrometers to get their data stream better aligned to the quark resonance scanners according to the specs the terraforming team asked for. It’s been running a test mode for just over an hour now. Do me a favour and check if the output is viable?”

Data turned back to his console and tapped the display several times. “The overall information package appears to be coherent enough to process satisfactory geologic structure analyses, but I am reading a one-point-three percent variance in the matched output stream.”

Riker asked, “Is that good enough to keep the terraforming team happy?”

“It’s pretty good and they’d be putting it on thick if they complained given what they came to me with a month ago, but if I could get it below one percent they’d have to be satisfied for sure,” La Forge replied.

“Is that plausible overnight?”

“Not if I’m going to be coherent tomorrow too,” La Forge replied with a chuckle. “I’ll have another crack at it in the morning when I don’t feel like the walls are starting to wobble, especially because we were also going to try a temporary new EPS boost but we’ve only just got those parts in from Starbase 58 too.”

“I am scheduled for third shift bridge duty at 2300 but if you wish for me to go to engineering to attempt to further align the streams and attend to the sample EPS power feed inputs, I am certain a shift change can be arranged, sir?” Data said, directing the last question to Riker.

“Of course. What are you two up to now?”

La Forge explained, “The new core system we’ll be getting requires an overhaul of the entire plasma line from intermix to nacelles. We’ll be doing that at time of the new core installation, but we’ve been running tests on some side theories about expanding that new methodology out to general power systems throughout the ship.”

“The eventual hope is to make better varied use of power during different drive modes to reduce competition for demand, sir,” Data clarified. “Because of the discrepancy of power needs when the Enterprise is stationary versus at impulse or warp, we are hoping upgrades to the EPS network will allow for more efficient power handling regardless of system load.”

“You mean when we’re not moving but throwing everything we’ve got at some nebula to chart, we’d be using power reserved from when we warped to that nebula in the first place? Like a battery?” Riker asked.

“A battery would serve as a…simplistic analogy, yes sir,” Data said with slightly overdone attempt at an indulgent smile.

“But instead of storing power – which is really inefficient – the idea is the plasma flow through the EPS network would do advanced pre-distribution based on anticipated load,” La Forge said. “It’s a long-term project, but we thought we might give it a limited trial at Dorif Prime so when terraforming is sucking down a huge amount of power for their startup no other department will have to give anything up or complain because they can’t run some other energy-intensive project.”

Riker appeared impressed. “I’m all for interdepartmental harmony. Data, if you can get any of that going overnight, that’s worth passing off bridge duty. I’ll call up Lieutenant Bakker instead. He’s been itching to increase his bridge hours before the next round of assessments. But I’d be happier about it if you started the shift and then left him to it just to make sure everything’s stable before you head down.”

“Of course sir. I will plan to give Mr. Bakker the bridge and proceed to engineering at 0200.”

La Forge stood and stretched his arms. “If you need me, Data, wake me. Otherwise I’m off to get some shut-eye before our early morning start. I’ll see you down there at 0500 unless you need me earlier than that.”

Data turned back to his console as he said, “I am confident you will be able to remain asleep undisturbed. Good night.”

La Forge and Riker shared a quiet grin at their friend’s typically atypical take on social graces, and then La Forge headed back to the turbolift.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna continues to be timid, but also shows she doesn't suffer fools gladly. Data and Geordi are impressed. 
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47120.7 (Saturday 02/14/2370, 01:20)

Anna sighed. She’d managed to get some sleep and then had gotten up to eat and then tried to fall back asleep, but eventually hit the point where being in bed was getting boring. She gave up, rose, got dressed, and then cautiously made her way back down to main engineering.

The whole area had a different feel about it with only a scant night crew watching over key systems. Nobody was running around, nobody was dealing with anything urgent, and with Geordi not there, nobody was constantly coming into the Chief Engineer’s corner to ask an opinion on this or permission for that. Instead, there were a few people tapping quietly at consoles. It made Anna feel as if she was sneaking in where she didn’t belong even though she knew she had permission to be there. She half expected to be challenged, questioned, but no one even looked up at her as she quietly walked through and went to gaze at the core again.

Once there, she smiled up at it as she had earlier. It was even easier in this now-quiet space to let the engine’s hum waft over her, almost lulling her back to sleep. She wanted to answer, to talk to it as she’d so often spoken to the drive on the Baltimore, but knew that would definitely get her unwanted attention from the engineers around her. She resisted the temptation by grabbing a tricorder from the nearby shelf, dutifully climbing the ladder to the upper deck, and then wandering around taking readings of anything that caught her fancy.

After about half an hour she took hold of the ladder’s rails and deftly slid down, only realizing at the bottom that she was probably expected to use the actual steps. She looked around nervously, but nobody appeared to have noticed. _Geez Louise you can get away with just about anything in here in the middle of the night,_ she thought, not as a cheeky invitation to misbehave but rather a sudden concern for security. _Because if I can get away with anything, what can someone else get away with against me?_

She shuddered and suddenly felt very exposed, which set off her need to examine the room for defensive positions and escape routes. With the tricorder in hand as if she was still taking engine readings, Anna instead crept about thinking about how she could climb away here, swing away there, get Jefferies access down on that side, hide under that console. She started imagining increasingly worse scenarios, getting herself worked up one moment and telling herself not to be silly the next, but then imagining something even worse all over again.

At the point where she was mentally measuring the distance from Geordi’s corner to the main exit and calculating steps over the central console in case a crowd of people ever came at her, Data walked in. Anna felt immediate relief, as if all of the imagined threats were chased away by his presence alone. Without even realizing it, she burst into a grateful smile and said, “Oh! Hi! You’re here!”

Data stopped and tilted his head to one side. “Hello. Were you unable to sleep satisfactorily in your quarters?”

“Actually I slept for about five hours, which is really good for me. Usually I only sleep a few hours at a time and I have to get exhausted to sleep again. If I try to sleep on a schedule I lie there worrying about nightmares which then causes nightmares, but if I go until I’m exhausted and drop I sleep longer and more peacefully.”

“Intriguing,” Data replied. “I have recently been experimenting with sleep myself. It is a more complicated procedure than most humans seem to indicate.”

“Yeah, this whole human thing of sleeping on a schedule is very weird, or sleeping in a specific bed. I used to love sleeping by the Baltimore’s drive and I was just thinking how nice it’d be to curl up for a nap up there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder to the upper deck around the warp core. “But after I goofed up with the climbing thing earlier, I’m not even going to consider it.”

Data nodded. “I do not think Geordi would approve of anyone sleeping in main engineering.”

“Probably not.”

“Though I do believe you are worrying too much about his reaction earlier.”

She shrugged awkwardly. “Got anything I can help with right now? I’m itching for a good puzzle.”

“I have two potential puzzles that may interest you,” he said. He summarized both the alignment of the data streams needed for the terraforming project and his and Geordi’s experiments with advanced EPS power distribution.

Anna grinned throughout his explanations. When he was done she clapped her hands excitedly. “Both are really juicy!”

Data raised an eyebrow. “Juicy?”

“Like you just want to sink your teeth in and gobble it up to find out everything about it.”

“Hm. As I have no sense of taste, I find your metaphor confusing. However, I appreciate your enthusiasm even if I do not fully grasp the concept of ingesting a problem in order to solve it.”

“Because if you eat it, you’re wrapping your whole self around it and making it part of you so then the solution can pour out your fingers,” Anna explained, making large gestures of mimed eating and then wiggling her fingers all around. “If we take a bite out of the warp core and a bite out of the impulse drive and then look at the whole EPS power distribution network, the answer will flow through us. Metaphorically, I mean. I don’t actually advocate eating the drives on account of, you know, death.”

Data’s brow furrowed as he attempted to understand.

Anna laughed at his reaction, but then her eyes went wide and she exclaimed, “Oh! Oh oh oh oh!” She spread her hands wide as if generating a screen in front of herself, and began swiping through information upon it. “Right now the load arrangement between the drives is handled at the ODN level from the bridge with redundancy in the battle bridge, but that’s hardly used, right?”

“That is correct.”

“So while in standard mode, there’s no reason to give the battle bridge that much of a share of the load arrangement handling because just by trunk distance alone there’s going to be microlag.” She moved her hands as if zooming in and out on a spec diagram that wasn’t actually there. “What if we recoded the system to prioritize main bridge ODN handling at a higher level and in return improved the handover system to the battle bridge for when it’s needed?” She swiped again and asked, “What percentage of the energy from your IPS exhaust plasma is captured by your MHDs during propulsion?”

“Typically only fifty-four percent.”

“Fifty-four is pretty good, but that’s probably because you’e got the exhaust passing through during combined mode, right?”

“That is standard procedure, yes,” Data answered as he moved to stand beside her, trying to glean the invisible things she was moving around before her.

In turn, Anna began to point to the imaginary screen as if he could see it as well. “Right, but if you let the bridge ODN handle a greater share of the power load arrangement so it’s more responsive on the fly, then it can also be set to manage that exhaust flow more efficiently in a distributed, needs-based manner, which then means you can better utilize your impulse power generation and distribution at the times when you’re looking to increase overall load because you’re studying something across multiple departments, yes?” She glanced at him but didn’t wait for an answer. “And then if you do likewise on the warp side, you end up with an overall more efficient power handling system that isn’t so bound by the specifics of propulsion at any given time. The ship’s computer is fast and smart; give her the power to arrange more of what she needs around herself.” With that, she grabbed through the air as she’d done the day before, as if she was collapsing the screen, and then put her hands triumphantly on her hips and looked to him for a response.

Utterly baffled by her actions and yet intrigued by her proposal, Data replied, “I see. Yes. That has potential. However, it is a significant undertaking across multiple core systems. We would be unable to even begin a project of that scale overnight.”

“Yes, but you were going to run some small scale, temporary tests on the EPS to play around with pre-distribution cycles based on the terraformers’ needs later today, right?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s create a redundant ODN test bed off to the side and teach it the terraformers’ needs and see what it can handle.”

“We already have an ODN simulation framework for precisely this sort of testing,” Data said.

Anna grinned and threw her arms in the air. “Why, we’re more than halfway done and the night’s barely started!”

“That is…an intriguing perspective.”

“If you give me access to that test bed I can hammer at it while you take the sensor data stream merging. Metaphorically, again. No actual hammering. Yet.”

Data nodded, went to the console at the end of Geordi’s corner, and linked Anna into a fresh simulation on their test network. She sat down and got right to it at a speed he found unusually impressive for a human. While she worked, he went about the room using the other consoles to access the spectrometers, scanners, and their combined information.

After about half an hour he announced, “I have succeeded in aligning the data streams within zero-point-six-eight percent.”

Without looking up from her console, she replied, “That ought to be more than good enough for the fussiest terraforming system. Unless something’s changed since I last looked at terraforming equipment, their network won’t even notice discrepancies below three percent, will it?”

“There have been recent upgrades but that threshold is still correct. I believe this arrangement will satisfy both Geordi and the terraforming team. How is your simulation coming?”

“Come have a look for yourself,” she replied with a grin.

He stood over her, watching her simulation playback over her shoulder. His brow arched as he said, “That is impressive.”

“It’s not quite done because I still have to account for this system set,” she said, pointing to a list at the side. “But I did the hard ones first so all of these should plug in fine. Why, it’s simply a matter of telling the computer what I want from here on.”

Data’s brow furrowed again. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you begin so many non-question sentences with the word ‘why’? I have not encountered this speech pattern before.”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “Oh no, am I doing that again? Sorry. It drove Dr. Cortez nuts. It’s from whenever I watch my favourite movie, which I watch whenever I’m nervous, and I was so nervous on the trip here I watched it over and over on my own PADD. I pick up their speech patterns because those were the only conversations I heard for most of my life, and I had no idea nobody talks like that anymore until I got back. I’ll try to stop it.”

“There is no need to alter your phrasing. I was merely curious, and also wished to ensure you were not using it to ask a question that I was perhaps missing. You should by all means continue to speak in a manner that suits your needs. I will note it as one of your normal mannerisms.”

“So…it doesn’t bother you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know. I never know what to expect from people. Everything is so inconsistent.”

“I have observed that as well, which is why I find it meaningful to make note of individual preferences and idiosyncrasies, to better tailor my reactions.”

She smiled a little. “Is that part of friendship? Adapting expectations to the specific relationship? It seems that’d have to be part of it.”

“In my experience of friendship, yes.”

“So even if I speak in weird ways, you’d still be my friend in spite of that?”

Data tilted his head to consider this, then replied, “Not ‘in spite of’ but because of. Your mannerisms are part of what make you you. Therefore I value those as much as any other aspect of your personality, such as your enthusiastic technical expertise. Would you like assistance with the secondary system set?”

“Why, yes, yes I would,” she said, beaming that particularly enormous smile at him again, and once again he found it temporarily distracting as he sat down beside her. But then she turned her eyes back to the console, so he refocused and began working with her at what he deemed to be a notable level of harmony and efficiency.

* * *

Shortly before 0500, Data declared, “That finalizes the last segment.”

Anna clapped her hands. “I adore it!”

“It is a highly satisfying result given the deadline. I believe Geordi will also be pleased.”

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had working on a system like this. Did you have fun?”

“I do not experience ‘fun’.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I am an android.”

Anna looked confused. “You said it was highly satisfying.”

“Yes.”

“And the way we worked together was amazing. It was like we knew what we were each about to do and bam bam bam done.”

“We appear to make an efficient team.”

“And you found it engaging and interesting and hopefully you’d like to work with me like that again sometime? Because I can’t wait to do tackle another problem with you!”

“I look forward to another similar shared experience of this nature, yes.”

She shrugged at him. “So if it was all of those things, isn’t that what constitutes fun?”

Data began to object, but then tilted his head and considered her words. “That is a fascinating hypothesis. I will need to examine it further.”

“As in, you’d enjoy picking apart the semantics of it and weighing out how all of those words fit the experience?”

Data nodded. “I would.”

She grinned mischievously at him, turned her chair, and then leaned her head and shoulders over the back so she was looking at him upside down. “So what you’re telling me is that android fun is just like anybody else’s fun because it all depends on the person and how they define all of those parameters for themselves?”

Data’s brows raised at this new concept. “You have an intriguing way of –”

A man in a blue uniform strode aggressively into main engineering at that moment, shouting, “What the hell have you people been doing with my equipment?”

Anna scurried to hide behind the rear wall of Geordi’s corner.

Data found her reaction concerning; further, he disliked the abrupt end to their conversation. He stood and addressed the angry man whom he recognized from the alterations to the crew manifest from Starbase 58. “Excuse me Lieutenant Benet, but what seems to be the problem?” Though Data sounded perfectly polite, he was deliberately using the particular cadence and tone that Geordi had labelled his “second officer’s voice”.

The man glared at Data but then stopped short and in a more measured tone of his own said, “I thought everything was in order but I’ve just been in the cargo bay and my equipment is not to my specifications. Sir.”

“I apologize if we have not met your expectations, but I assure you we have been working towards doing so with great care. If the problem is the data stream alignment, I have personally brought the variance within zero-point-six-eight percent within the last few hours.”

Benet sneered. “No, not the damned data stream, I mean the hydroprocessor circuitry! Where’s La Forge? I need to speak to La Forge.”

“Commander La Forge is expected at 0500 hours. That is in twelve minutes.”

“Well tell him to meet me in Cargo Bay Two as soon as possible. Please. Sir,” he said, clearly infuriated yet reluctantly recognizing the rank before him. He turned and began to march back out of engineering, but then suddenly stopped at the entrance and asked, “Zero-point-six-eight percent? Really?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Data replied with a firmly neutral expression.

Benet grunted and resumed storming off.

“That was exciting for night shift,” muttered Ensign Wong from beside the warp core. Several of the overnight crew had left their stations to have a peek at what was going on, but most were already heading back to their posts.

“Indeed, Ensign,” Data replied, but instead of turning to the young officer behind him, he looked to Anna coming out from the back corner. “Are you all right?”

She sheepishly approached him, carefully checking the main room as she went. “Sorry. He spooked me.”

“His manner was unduly abrupt, but I do not believe he meant you any harm.”

When she was right beside him she whispered, “I get very nervous around aggressive men.”

Data nodded. “Understood. But you are safe here.”

She smiled up at him a little, but then looked towards the door again as if she expected him to return.

Data tapped his combadge. “Data to La Forge.”

_“Yeah, yeah, Data, I’ll be down in a minute.”_

“Lieutenant Benet was just here and appears to have some concerns regarding the terraforming equipment in Cargo Bay Two. He requested your presence at your earliest convenience.”

_“Why do I get the feeling you’re making that sound nicer than it is? I’m on my way to engineering first. I’ll meet you there in a minute. La Forge out.”_

Data turned to Wong and said, “Ensign, please go to Cargo Bay Two and inform Lieutenant Benet that Lieutenant Commander La Forge and I will be there soon to assist him.” His emphasis on the ranks was subtle, but still clear.

“Yes sir,” said Wong.

“And Ensign, you may find it helpful to offer him assistance of your own. Though you are likely to be rejected, please remain in the cargo bay until we join you.”

“In case my assistance is needed at any point?” Wong asked with a knowing grin.

“Precisely, Ensign.”

“Understood, sir.”

As Wong left Anna asked, “Did you just send him as a watchdog?”

“We are merely extending our continued assistance to the terraforming team,” Data replied.

“I think you might be sneakier than you seem on the outside.”

“I believe the preferred descriptor is, ‘diplomatic’.”

Anna chuckled just as Geordi arrived.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Data replied, “Though we were able to get the merged data stream to well within tolerance, it would appear there is an issue with the hydroprocessor circuitry. Lieutenant Benet was rather…forceful in his expressions of concern.”

Geordi shook his head and muttered, “Figures. Okay, let’s head down there. Brace for impact.”

Data said to Anna, “If you found the lieutenant’s aggression upsetting, you do not need to come. However, if you wish to be present to implement the initial phase of the EPS alterations in conjunction with the terraforming equipment, I assure you that you will be entirely safe.”

“I normally don’t believe anyone when they say that, but somehow I do believe it coming from you. I’ll tag along. Besides, I kind of liked seeing you put a loudmouth like that in place. It was inspiring.”

* * *

As they entered the cargo bay, Anna noticed Ensign Wong give Data a more muted version of the same knowing grin he’d used in engineering. Data gave a small nod in reply. She wasn’t sure exactly what was being communicated, but found the whole thing interesting to watch and hoped one day she might be enough a part of this team that she could speak volumes with a simple nod herself.

Likewise, she found it fascinating to watch as Geordi approached the still-fuming Lieutenant Benet and attempted to defuse him. At first Benet seemed determined to remain angry, but Geordi had a calming way about him that made Anna wonder how well she’d been handled the day before. But then she glanced up at Data at her side, saw him turn and give her an encouraging smile, and she decided however these two were placating her was a welcome change.

It wasn’t as if she’d never had someone go out of their way to accommodate her before. Researchers who wanted her on board were often overreaching in their apparent kindness and flattery. But even as socially inept as she was, Anna was still entirely able to recognize when she was being catered to because someone wanted something from her. It had become so common that she’d started to wonder if genuine friendship even existed in the universe.

As she watched Geordi, however, she realized he was speaking to Benet differently than he’d spoken to her. She was trying to suss out the particulars of what made it different when some of Benet’s words filtered through her distracted state to alert her brain to something familiar.

“I don’t care about the efficiency of the new set!” Benet said in exasperation. “The computing modules are not suitable for the temperatures on Doraf Prime! That’s why I specifically put in my list to use the 850 generation models, not the 900 ones!”

Before she even thought better of it, Anna blurted out, “So swap out the modules for the same ones the Enterprise uses for atmospheric processing units.” All eyes turned to her, which made her blood run cold. “I mean, surely you have a whole pile of spares for regular maintenance on the APUs?” she asked Geordi, trying to sound confident while suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah, we have dozens of them. They’re required emergency stock,” Geordi replied.

Anna tentatively approached the equipment in front of Geordi and Benet and flipped open the access panel on the unit closest to her. “Those will be the same spec and work in here just fine,” she said, pointing inside the hydroprocessor. “You just have to reset it to remove sulphur from the soil instead of carbon dioxide from the air, and replenish nitrogen into the soil instead of oxygen into the air. Five minutes’ programming, tops. It’s even the same form factor so it’ll pop right in.”

Benet glared at her. “I don’t know who you are, but that’s idiotic.”

Instead of being cowed by his anger again, Anna felt increasingly annoyed. She shook her head as she firmly declared, “Nope. It’ll work.”

“Have much experience in terraforming, do you?” Benet scoffed.

“No,” she replied.

“Exactly.”

Geordi started to intervene but Anna spoke over him to say, “But I have plenty of experience repurposing terraforming hydroprocessor circuitry to repair APUs.”

Benet shook his head. “That’s insane.”

Anna flatly said, “No it’s not. My ship’s APUs were totally fried which was fine when I was on Covaris Two with a decent enough air supply all around, but I needed to rebuild them before I could launch back into space. My supply of non-replicable raw materials was running low so instead of using any of that to make new APUs I just raided the terraforming equipment we had on board for preliminary studies on Covaris Three because clearly it was never going to get over there. The units are swappable, because I’ve swapped them. Trust me, you can definitely put a current standard APU command module into your hydroprocessor here and it’ll act the same as an earlier generation native unit.”

Benet’s jaw dropped.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Or fine, don’t believe me, I guess I’m not a terraformer. I just grew up surrounded by terraforming equipment and poached nearly all of its parts for use somewhere else,” she said with a shrug as she walked back over to Data. “Data if you can show me where you keep the APU spares, I’d be more than happy to help reprogram them to get the hydroprocessors up and running.”

Data nodded. “They are in Cargo Bay Four. I will take you to them.”

With that, the two of them left, leaving Geordi standing beside the still gobsmacked Benet.

Geordi said, “Sounds like we can fix this for you easily after all.”

“But…she must be…she’s talking about the Baltimore.”

“Yeah.”

Benet’s eyes went as wide as his mouth. “Holy shit, that’s Anna White.”

“Yeah.”

“She was on the same transport to Starbase 58 I was. I sat that close to the Anna White for that long and didn’t even talk to her. Didn’t even notice her there.”

Geordi leaned in and gently suggested, “Maybe you should listen to her now.”

* * *

By the middle of the day, the Enterprise crew along with Anna had set everything right for the terraforming team, so the equipment and personnel were beamed to the surface of Doraf Prime. Benet maintained an awestruck distance from Anna the entire time, which amused Geordi but kept Anna fluctuating between wariness and irritation, especially once Data was recalled to the bridge.

On the walk back to main engineering once the cargo bay was cleared, Geordi asked, “You okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking. Benet was a bit of a jerk but you put him in his place.”

Anna shrugged. “I’ve run into that type a lot. They suppose they know everything about everything and don’t like weird suggestions, and I’m made out of weird suggestions. He was annoying but I’ll forget about him soon enough. He’s too common.”

“Ouch,” Geordi said with a laugh as they entered the turbolift.

“In fact, I refuse to think about him any further. Let’s talk about something else. I have a random question: are there really dolphins on board?”

“Not at the moment, but we do maintain the facilities for Cetacean Ops, yes,” Geordi explained. “They haven’t been here for about a year, though. The Lancaster is also Galaxy class, and she was assigned to research non-humanoid life support so most of the Cetacean Ops folks are on the Lancaster leading the research out at Pacifica. They’ll probably end up back on board at some point, though, if you’re keen to see them. They do like visitors,” he added with a chuckle. “Well, the dolphins do. The human staff don’t like feeling they’re in a zoo with people coming to gawk, but I’ll introduce you next time they’re on board.”

As they stepped off the turbolift, Anna once again inspected the corridor carefully before proceeding, and then said, “I both want to and don’t. That much water terrifies me. Pacifica was a reasonable option when I left Covaris but there was no way I was going from a desert to an ocean. I can’t even swim! When I finally got free on Earth I went to go see the ocean and I was overwhelmed by the endless bigness of it. It felt like at any moment it could reach up a wave and snatch me away to drown.”

“I can understand that. My VISOR interprets water very differently from air. I know it’s not a solid but in some ways it appears as one to me, and yet not. It can be pretty disorienting. Still, I remember as a kid getting to go to a beach and I loved the smell of the salt water.”

“Oh yes. From well up shore it’s quite lovely. I quite enjoyed some of England’s coastal cliff views. It’s weird though: I’m not at all afraid to stand right on the edge of a cliff over land, but I am terrified of standing over water, when a fall onto land would inevitably do more damage than a proper dive into water.”

“Why didn’t you get some swimming lessons then?” he asked as they walked over to his corner of engineering.

Anna shrugged again. “Would’ve had to talk to people while being simultaneously terrified of the water and the people. It wasn’t high on my list of things to do. But speaking of lists of things to do, here,” she said as she tapped the console to bring up the simulation she and Data had finished earlier.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Data told me about your EPS power distribution plans so I came up with some theories and we ran some simulations overnight. It’s not complete but it’s a definite proof of concept. And while you were helping the terraforming team get everything sent down, Data implemented a partial live test of this. He said he’ll be monitoring it from the bridge so I guess you could go see that up there with him, but this simulation shows what we did.”

Geordi sat down to scroll his way through the information on the console. He kept starting to ask questions or express doubts only to find each was answered as he examined the project further. When he got to the end he turned and looked up at Anna in disbelief. “You two did this just overnight?”

“Yeah. I mean it needs more work but –”

“Anna, this is a week’s worth of work at least!”

She laughed, but then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you’re serious.”

“Yeah!”

“Why, it’s just an initial sim and sideline test run, no big deal. Primer-level stuff, just rearranged into something new and potentially useful.”

“Anna, reconfiguring the Enterprise’s entire EPS and ODN for this much potential power boost isn’t primer-level!”

“It is to me. This is what I do, what you brought me here for, to look at piles of stuff and see past the Starfleet manuals to come up with weird ideas. I’m particularly good with power efficiency because I had to be. If you’re looking to stump me, ask me to do something with communications. But actually please don’t, comm systems are super boring. They either work or they don’t and other than security protocols on top they haven’t changed much in hundreds of years. You speak or type into one side, there’s a transmission protocol, the other side receives. Boring. But I admit I have no clue about any of it on board so yeah, if you’re looking to push me –”

“Push you? I figured Data and I would be doing this for weeks and sure maybe bring you in somewhere along the line in the lead-up to the new core installation, but it never occurred to me the two of you would blaze through it in your first twenty-four hours on board!”

“I can pretend to go slower if that helps?” she suggested somewhat nervously. “Dr. McLeod oh-so-politely informed me that while Daystrom has high expectations, too much output too fast could make people angry. I never understood that but I could tell she was already angry so I asked Dr. Cortez and she said just to keep doing whatever I wanted to do at my own pace. But I could tell there’s a lot of social side to this that I just don’t understand, so if you need me to fake it slower, I can.”

Geordi laughed. “Well, that sounds familiar. By the way, why am I sitting while you’re standing? Here,” he said as he got up and indicated for her to take the chair.

“You’ve been told to slow down too?” she asked as she sat.

“Not me so much, but Data. He’s got stories of having to slow down to keep humans from getting jealous and angry. I told him they sound like people worth ignoring, but he had already learned to adapt before we met. I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you think you have a lot in common with him.”

“I was entirely serious.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said with another chuckle, feeling very pleased with himself for getting this strange but incredibly useful expert on board.

* * *

#### Stardate 47122.5 (Saturday 02/14/2370, 17:06) – Enterprise, Orbiting Doraf Prime – Bridge

It was quiet that evening on the bridge. Tasks were performed with minimal conversation, and Riker knew it was because several of them were pulling double shifts while too many of the usual faces were missing. He was comfortable enough in the captain’s chair in a general sense, but it would never feel right to be in Picard’s chair specifically. He hoped his friend was having fun playing archaeologist off in the dirt, but it had occurred to him earlier in the day that nobody had heard from the captain at all.

Riker had always found particular amusement in pushing Picard’s archaeological buttons because he never saw the man quite so happy as when pursuing his favourite hobby. The way his eyes had lit up when his old professor had come aboard the year before – enlisting Riker in a surprise greeting and then delivering a funny-looking old carving filled with other carvings – had been so pure and heartwarming that the first officer could not help but grin to himself in the present at the memory. His grin faded, however, when he recalled that Picard had lost his mentor shortly thereafter. He wondered if that’s why there hadn’t yet been the usual gleeful message of discovery from Picard; was this trip part of his mourning? Or maybe he just hadn’t found anything interesting yet. Then again, a man out on his own in the wilderness on a rough outpost of a planet…what if something had gone wrong?

“Incoming message from the surface, sir,” Worf said behind him.

“On screen,” Riker replied.

Lieutenant Commander Malika Abbas appeared on the screen. She looked as tired as he felt, but in a much happier way. _“Commander, I have excellent news. We’ve got everything running already! That’s got to be a record time.”_

“I thought the power transfer was going to go on into the night,” Riker said.

 _“I assumed so as well but apparently your engineering crew works miracles.”_ She nodded to Data sitting at his ops console. _“Commander Data, your experiment was definitely worth it. We’re fully juiced up and already starting our initial cycles.”_

“Yes, Lieutenant. I observed four minutes ago that your power cells appear to be at maximum but I was awaiting your confirmation.”

_“Consider it confirmed. Please pass my gratitude to the whole team.”_

“I will do so,” Data said politely.

Lieutenant Benet came into view behind Abbas and nervously said, _“Sir, could you please pass on my specific gratitude and apologies for my…um…over enthusiasm this morning? Specialist White’s fixes for the hydroprocessors are perfect and I’m sorry if I seemed…pushy.”_

Data glanced over his shoulder to Riker, but since Riker knew nothing of what had happened, he merely shrugged in reply. Data said, “I will pass along all of your kind words. I am certain they will be appreciated.”

Riker stood and approached the screen. “It sounds like it’s been a long day for everyone. We’re happy to stick around overnight as planned in case you require anything further.”

Abbas said, _“Let us get some initial confirmation readings back just to be sure, but after that we shouldn’t need a babysitter.”_

“We’re scheduled for several tasks in sectors R3 through T3 over the next several weeks, so before we head that way I want to make sure you’re stable,” Riker said. “Starbase 172 is your point of contact but it’s still more than 24 hours away at maximum warp.”

 _“I know, and we appreciate the concern,”_ Abbas replied with a friendly smile. _“I’m not going to lie, I’ll miss the creature comforts I’ve gotten used to on the Enterprise preparing for this mission over these last few weeks. But we’re all excited to be here and we can handle it. I’ll get back to you in about an hour or so with those final confirmations and then you can safely head out.”_

“Understood,” Riker said, and the transmission was ended.

“She sounds like my older sister telling our mom to stop calling her every day when she left for the Academy,” said Ensign Yoder at the helm.

Riker laughed. “Yeah, terraformers act like it’s about the tech but I think in their hearts they all love roughing it.” On his way back to the chair he looked up at Worf. “It won’t hurt us to head back towards Starbase 247 slightly early to pick up Deanna on the way to retrieving the captain, unless anyone comes up with more for us in between.”

Worf checked his console and shook his head. “We have received no other orders between here and our scheduled stop at 247 on stardate 47130, sir.”

“Then that’s the plan,” Riker said as he sat down.

Data turned and said, “Sir, given the reasonable assumption that the terraforming team does not require us further, I would like to return to engineering to report on the EPS test and continue work on that project from there.”

“Of course Mr. Data,” Riker replied, prompting Data to stand and leave. One of the standby junior officers rushed to take the ops position instead.

That settled, the bridge went relatively quiet again, returning Riker to his nagging concern at not having heard from the captain. The more he thought about it, the more unusual it seemed, because on his past jaunts he’d always sent a communication even in the absence any great find. Riker knew it was Picard’s way of opening an opportunity to be told everything was well and in order back on board his beloved ship so he could continue to freely enjoy his time away.

_Something’s not right,_ he thought. _I can’t put my finger on it, and it’s not enough to worry anyone else with yet, but I can just tell that something’s not right._


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation about ableism and Data finally finds a fan for his comedy.
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47122.5 (Saturday 02/14/2370, 17:20) – Main Engineering

Word had gotten around quickly in engineering circles about Anna’s fast successes, particularly having put Benet in his place with her casual solution to his problem. She was oblivious to the quiet background chatter at first, but gradually notice that the engineers were looking at her more than they had the day before, and smiling a lot. Anna returned their smiles, hoping she didn’t look as awkward and nervous as she felt, but the more it happened the weirder and more conspicuous she felt, which made her more nervous, all repeating into a vicious circle.

Further, people kept inadvertently approaching her from behind whenever she tried to concentrate on the console, making her jumpy. She quickly learned to use the window to the warp core just above the console as a mirror for the main engineering entrance and central console. It wasn’t perfect, but she incorporated regular glances upwards into her work so she had a good idea of who was behind her at any given time.

When Data returned later in the day, she saw him in the reflection and experienced a sudden relief as if he was chasing away all of her disquieting thoughts, once more breaking all of the emotional spirals that threatened to drag her down. She immediately turned her chair to give him a warm, enormous smile as he approached.

For his part, once again Data found her expression inexplicably distracting for a fraction of a second. He greeted her politely as Geordi came around the corner with his own ear-to-ear grin.

“Hey there, I’ve been waiting to congratulate you on the EPS test!” Geordi said to Data. “Terraformers happy?”

“They are indeed, and ahead of schedule in part due to the improved transitions from the test,” Data said. “However, the bulk of the congratulations goes to Anna.”

“Yeah well she said the same thing about you and believe me, I’ve been laying the thanks on thick for her all afternoon.”

“You have indeed,” Anna said.

Data asked her, “Would you care to begin a second phase of simulations?” But then his brow furrowed and he added, “Although by my calculations, you have been awake for a very long time. Do you not require sleep soon?”

“I’m insufficiently exhausted yet. I’ve got another hour or two in me and then I can go pretend to be human and collapse. One of you want to open a new test bed and let me loose in it?”

“Here,” Geordi said, leaning over and tapping the console where she sat. “When I get a chance in the next day or so, I’ll set up a permanent access so you can play in that sandbox any time you like, and in your lab upstairs too.”

“That’s very kind of you, thanks,” she said as she started to work.

“May I ask you a question?” Data asked her.

“Sure.”

“I have observed you repeatedly referring to humans as if you are not one of them. You are human, are you not?”

Anna wrinkled her nose, tilted her head to one side, and made a twisting motion with her hand to indicate a “so-so” reaction.

Data appeared confused. “Your mother is listed as genetically human. Was your father not human?”

“Hah! That’s one way to put it. No, that miserable jerk is entirely human as far as I know, just not very humane.”

“Then you are human?”

She laughed wryly. “I am. I just often feel like I’m on the outside of it all. Tap tap tapping on the glass, waving through a window,” she sang faintly. “For instance, not many humans do this at the end of the day,” she said as she reached down and pulled on her right shin so that her artificial leg hung loosely inside her jumpsuit at an ungainly angle. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it fairly hidden under the console, but it gets irritating by the end of a long day like this. I’d take it off fully but regular humans don’t tend to react well to that.”

At that moment Lieutenant Covett happened to be walking by and noticed. He paused, looked at Anna’s oddly-angled leg, and said, “You know I’ve got a cousin that lost an arm in the war with Cardassia.”

Data and Geordi both observed Anna’s smile shift from warm to icy almost instantly.

But Covett appeared not to notice as he continued, “He got himself a bio-limb and he says it’s as good as the original. Better in some ways.”

“I’m very happy for him,” Anna replied in a flat tone.

Geordi gestured to indicate for Covett to drop the matter, but the Lieutenant pressed on, asking, “Is there a reason you don’t get a proper replacement leg? Seems like it’d fix a lot of problems.”

Geordi cringed and started to say, “Hey Dean –”

But at the same time, Anna coldly replied, “It’s not what I want and it wouldn’t solve whatever problems you seem to think I have.”

“I mean it’d make you more, you know, efficient,” Covett said, his awkward words indicating that he finally realized he was digging himself in rather badly.

“Have you observed any specific inefficiencies on my part in the day and a half I’ve been on board? And if so, do please explain how my leg has been involved in any of them.”

“I just meant –”

“With or without the leg I am able to move about this space more efficiently than most, actually. If you mean my preference to remain seated as I am now, I assure you that sitting does not impede my output in any way.”

“I didn’t say –”

“The Andoran have six fingers on each hand. I bet they’re able to input commands on a console at a higher rate than those of us with five fingers,” she said.

Covett scoffed, “I know several Andorians and none of them have six –“

“I said Andoran, not Andorian. Andorans have six fingers. Look it up. Have you considered surgical alteration to graft a sixth finger on each hand to increase your efficiency?

Covett recoiled in disgust. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

“How is that any different than your suggestion that I have a fake leg surgically attached to my body?”

“Because two legs and ten fingers is normal for a human.”

“Not for me,” she countered. “I’ve had one leg for most of my life. I only got this prosthetic when I left the environment that allowed me to function perfectly well without it. I wear it to enable me to get around space that doesn’t otherwise meet my needs, and, frankly, so people don’t ask me personal questions about altering my body.”

Covett was clearly getting annoyed. “Hey, look –”

“I am no more a two-legged human than you are a twelve-fingered one.”

The lieutenant looked to Geordi for backup, but the latter merely crossed his arms and shrugged. Covett scoffed and walked away.

Anna glared at him as he went, then turned her eyes back to her console and resumed her work.

Geordi sighed and softly said, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure if I should intervene or not.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it,” she replied.

“Yeah, I hear that.”

Anna turned her chair to face him. “I bet. Fully-formed, original-parts people are annoyingly judgmental, aren’t they?”

“Oh yeah,” Geordi replied. “I’ve had to use that same argument about my VISOR when I’m constantly asked why I don’t just get standard ocular implants or whatever other random thing they heard about on some holonews story but have no actual clue about.”

“I’ve learned that phrases like, ‘Why don’t you just?’ or ‘Have you tried?’ are always followed by something that will make me angry,” Anna said.

“They don’t get that sometimes we like it the way we have it, even if it’s not what they think of as perfect. My VISOR gives me headaches if I wear it too long and I’m still missing some things about what I see, but I also see much more than anyone else. I don’t want to give that up.”

Data nodded. “I have used a similar argument before as well.”

“Well you can do even more than either of us,” Geordi said with a chuckle.

“No, I mean about your VISOR.”

“You used my VISOR in an argument?”

“Yes,” Data said. “I cited it as evidence to convince the captain to not allow Commander Maddox to require me to undergo his tests.”

Anna turned back to her console.

“But Data, I thought the captain argued that point himself?” Geordi asked.

“At first he believed I should consider submitting to the procedures because of what it would mean for Starfleet. I suggested that Starfleet would be more efficient if every officer had their biological eyes replaced with a VISOR system.”

Geordi whistled. “I bet he didn’t like that idea.”

“He did not. I believe it was his aversion to the very concept that prompted him to argue the case on my behalf.”

Anna cringed and muttered, “I always wondered what would make a man like that bother to help someone else. Figures.”

Data frowned, confused by Anna’s reaction. “It was not that the captain wished me to submit so much as he lacked sufficient reason to refuse Starfleet orders until I supplied him with that example.”

Anna shrugged.

Geordi leaned back in his chair. “Well, we’re all glad he defended you as he did, however he got to that point.”

Anna turned just enough to look at Data as she said, “I cited your case to force Starfleet to stop using me as an involuntary test subject myself.”

“I am aware of that, yes. I am very sorry for what was done to you, but I am glad my case provided you with assistance.”

“Hey Anna, you know that what they were doing with you, holding you like that, that was illegal anyway, right?” Geordi asked.

“I know it now, but I didn’t at the time. If I hadn’t stumbled across that case when I was hacking my way through the library, I’m not sure I would have had the confidence to demand anyone pay attention to me.” She smiled a little at Data, but it was a sad, lost expression. “I owe you a huge debt of gratitude for that.”

Data shook his head. “Not at all. I am simply pleased to have been of service without even having been aware of it.”

She turned the chair to face them both again. “You’re very kind. You both are. Why, I kind of feel like I’ve joined the secret club of people who are fine the way they are and just need others to back off.”

Geordi laughed. “I didn’t know we had a club, but if we do, you’re welcome to join.”

“Thank you,” she replied. Then she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Covett back behind the warp core and muttered, “Mind you, some people around here could use a personality transplant.”

Geordi laughed again. “Now that sums up more than half of the engineering crew!”

* * *

#### Stardate 47124.0 (Sunday 02/15/2370, 06:48) – Main Engineering

After another reasonably solid sleep, Anna had once again returned to engineering during the overnight shift. She’d hoped to see Data there again, but she supposed he must’ve had work elsewhere or was possibly resting in whatever way androids rested.

She’d read everything she could find out about him when she’d first escaped The Institute, but then had forgotten about him until she got Geordi’s first invitation to come aboard the Enterprise. That had rekindled her fascination with Data and the way various elements within Starfleet appeared to regard him in terms of his sentience and his rights, so once again she’d found all of the publicly available information she could to learn more about him.

However, since she’d drawn the line at going beyond what was publicly available – not out of fear of being caught, but rather a profound need to treat this fascinating man with the respect Starfleet had not bothered to pay her – she had little idea of his personal life other than apparently he played the violin and painted. Somewhere in one of the articles about him there’d been mention that he didn’t need to sleep, but she wondered if he did anyway, or if he ever took time to simply relax and do nothing.

Either way he clearly wasn’t in engineering, so she poked around on the console trying to become fully familiar with everything that she could in advance of the new warp core project looming on the horizon.

She was sitting at the usual console in Geordi’s corner when she heard a soft, “Ahem,” from the direction of the core. She looked up and saw one of the other engineers there, someone she’d been introduced to but hadn’t yet spoken with.

“I…I…I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to, that is, I haven’t really had a chance…it’s just that…” the man stammered, but then his shoulders slumped and he sighed in defeat.

Anna felt sorry for him and felt even worse that she’d forgotten his name, so she decided to try to rescue him with an apology. “I’m sorry, I know Geordi told me your name but he told me a zillion names that first day and I’ve forgotten. Please tell me again.”

“I’m Barclay. Reg. Reg Barclay. Lieutenant Reg Barclay. Reginald, actually, but nobody calls me that. Um, Reg. Yes, that’s me,” he said, leaning against the clear partition as if he was trying to look casual but failing at it.

Anna tried to give him a warm smile but worried it would come across too pitying, so she overcompensated with a little laugh. That made him looked horrified, so she stopped and instead said, “How do you do? I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I’m not on this shift, I’m on the next shift,” he explained. “I mean the one that starts in a few minutes, so I’ve just come in. I’m not leaving. That is to say I try to be early lately because I used to always be late and I was in trouble all the time, so I’ve been trying to keep Commander La Forge happy but I never quite know if I’m doing it right, or anything right. But I’m here for the next shift, the one in a few minutes. Are you?”

She looked to the side as she parsed out his jumble of words. “I’m here for whenever I want to be here. I don’t sleep on a normal schedule so part of the deal is I come and go when I wish. But I do understand about never being sure if you’re doing things right, if that helps.”

Reg’s shoulders relaxed a little. “It does. It really does. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Everyone was talking last night about how brilliant you are, but it’s nice that you’re nice too. Sometimes brilliant people aren’t nice, but you seem…nice. I’m saying ‘nice’ too much and now it sounds weird. Do words ever sound weird to you if you say them too much?”

“All the time. I have to avoid thinking about it or else I get caught in a mental loop!”

Reg looked at though he’d been understood for the first time in his life and was awestruck by it. “Exactly! Oh you are brilliant!”

“Um, I don’t know about that,” she replied, feeling suddenly quite embarrassed. “But it’s kind of you. Thank you.”

“I read your paper about lowering peak transitional thresholds between warp speeds and it blew my mind. It was pure genius.”

“Oh that’s sweet of you, Reg, but –”

“Sweet? Me?”

“Um, yeah. But the thing is, I didn’t actually write that paper. Dr. Cortez did. She and Dr. McLeod did, I guess, both of them, and they asked me a lot of questions but I didn’t do any of the actual writing.”

“But it was based on your alterations to the Baltimore, wasn’t it?”

“In part, yes, and some other stuff we all researched together, but it’s weird to me when people think I’ve written all of these papers when at best I’m just a consultant.”

Reg moved to sit in Geordi’s chair as he emphatically said, “Oh no, no no no, Ms. White, you can’t ever think you’re just a consultant. You’re…you…I mean the things you’ve done! The stuff you’ve built! You’re a…well you’re the Goddess of Engineering!”

“Hah! Me? Not hardly! You are very kind but no, I promise you, I’m nothing of the kind.”

“Oh but you are! And nice too! See, there it is again, nice…nice…but you’re more than nice, you’re –”

Anna had seen Geordi come in while Reg was stammering again but Reg hadn’t, so when Geordi said, “Hey Reg, that’s my chair,” the latter yelped and fell out, stumbling back into the console behind him and ending up sprawled on the floor.

Anna gasped and stood quickly to help him, almost falling over herself, catching her balance on the console.

Geordi asked, “Whoa, you okay?”

It took Anna a moment to realize Geordi was asking her, not Reg, who was scrambling awkwardly to his feet. She felt terrible at how embarrassed he looked, so she said, “I fall down all the time. It’s okay.”

Reg attempted to smile at her, but it was strained. He muttered, “I’m fine,” and bustled past her and Geordi to go into the warp core area out of sight just as Data came in and approached them.

Anna sighed and sat back down. “Well, that’s a first. Hi, Data.”

“Good morning,” Data replied.

“What’s a first?” Geordi asked.

“Meeting someone even more nervous than I am.”

Geordi replied, “Yeah, Reg is a nice guy but socially awkward, even for an engineer.”

“Yeah, why are so many of you like that?” she asked. “I know my obvious excuse for how weird and awkward I am, but most of you grew up around other humans in actual families.”

“I think it’s that a lot of us can make more sense out of machines than people,” Geordi surmised. “Command officers, they know how to get people to do what they want. Science types know how to get people out of the way so they can figure stuff out. But engineers? We bypass all of that to get to the technology itself.”

Anna asked Data, “Aren’t you basically all three?”

Data’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you mean I am a machine, an object of research, and technology?”

“No, I meant command, science, and engineer.”

“Ah,” he replied. “I serve in those three capacities as well as security. I perform a variety of functions as second officer.”

“So why are you in gold? Or do you change uniforms for different jobs?”

“Most of my time is spent in ops and engineering so I remain in this colour.”

Geordi grinned. “Because in his heart he’s one of us, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Speaking of, are you down here for this shift, Data?”

“No. I have only come to determine your plans for the EPS tests this morning. I am otherwise required on the bridge for the first half of this shift. It is my intention, however, to come back here for the second half.”

“I think we need to put the EPS experiments on hold for now because we’ve got sensor maintenance coming up and I don’t want anything new messing up our readings. Why don’t I come up to the bridge with you for a bit and we can set the next few days’ schedule up there?”

“That would be acceptable,” Data said with a polite nod.

Geordi stood back up. “Hey Anna, if you want to keep mucking around with the EPS test bed, feel free, but I feel like we’ve monopolized you on it.”

“Not at all,” she replied. “I’m enjoying it.”

“Okay, but you should also feel free to check out any of the other systems, especially in advance of the core upgrade.”

“I have been, and I might do more of that today too. You have things humming along so well here that it’s not like there’s a lot of room for easy suggestions for upgrades.”

Geordi grinned ear to ear and wagged his finger. “Now that is music to my ears! Okay Data, let’s go on up.”

After they left, Anna noticed Reg was slinking around in the background, looking at her sheepishly. She didn’t know what to do or say about it that wouldn’t make the poor man feel worse, so she tried her best to ignore him for the rest of the morning.

* * *

#### Stardate 47124.5 (Sunday 02/15/2370, 10:37) – Deck Twelve – Sickbay

Riker exited the turbolift and began striding down the corridor in the brisk manner that was natural for his long legs, but then stopped short just before the entrance to the main ICU and Doctor Crusher’s office. He hadn’t fully intended to come down to this deck, even though he admitted to himself it was inevitable. He tried to think of a good justification but couldn’t, so he shrugged at himself and went looking for Crusher.

She was sitting at her desk and looked up as he entered. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just stretching my legs. Thought I’d poke my head in here and make sure everything’s going smoothly.”

Crusher smiled indulgently. “Captain’s chair can be a bit confining, can’t it?”

“Something like that,” Riker said as he sat down in front of her desk. “Speaking of the captain, have you heard anything from him?”

“No, but I wouldn’t expect to. Why, is something wrong?”

“No, just wondering,” Riker said, feeling conspicuous in the lie. “Usually he sends a message by now on his trips like these.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a happy boy digging in the dirt with his spade and bucket. He’s been looking forward to this particular trip for awhile. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m probably a bit tired,” he carefully admitted, realizing he wasn’t going to get away with pretending everything was perfect when it clearly wasn’t.

“If you need help sleeping –”

“Nothing like that. Just like you say, sitting in someone else’s command chair.”

“Well there’s Geordi’s birthday party tomorrow,” she said. “That should break up the weight of command for a bit.”

“You know, I’d completely forgotten about that.” Riker smiled broadly. “That actually helps. Thanks!” he said as he stood.

“Glad to be of assistance,” the doctor replied. “I wish every case was that easy!”

Riker nodded at her happily and strode out of the room, back to his usual gait, certain that he was overreacting to the lack of communication.

* * *

#### Stardate 47124.7 (Sunday 02/15/2370, 12:22) – Main Engineering

Around midday, Data left the bridge to head back down to engineering. He noticed that his scheduling matrix was starting to prioritize tasks in that area slightly more than usual, and he found that he preferred the new emphasis.

When he arrived Geordi was staring through the transparent wall of his office up at the warp core with a perplexed expression. Data stood by him to see what he was looking at, and discovered it was Anna on the upper level, dancing around with a tricorder in her hand.

Geordi glanced at Data, raised an eyebrow, and said, “The others said she’s been doing that since before I got back down here. If she hadn’t told us about hearing the engine ‘singing’ when she first came on board, I’d think she had some kind of hidden headphones on or something.”

“Hm,” Data replied. “She is…fascinating.”

“That’s one way to describe her.”

“Do you not approve?”

“Oh I approve, Data. She’s great. I just wasn’t expecting…actually you know what, I had no idea what to expect, but I never thought anyone would dance to the warp core.”

“I wonder what song she hears now?” Data mused.

“No idea. I’m a bit jealous, to be honest. It’s my engine and I’ve never heard it sing one damned note.”

“I will go ask.”

“Uh if you like, I guess,” Geordi said, but Data was already walking away and heading for the ladder.

Once on the upper level he stood watching Anna for a short time. She was taking engine readings on the tricorder and comparing something about them to information on the display panels on the walls, but even being able to follow her fingers on the devices, Data could not guess what it was she was specifically examining. This was somewhat concerning for him, since usually he could simply watch a human’s movements to glean what they were scanning for. Anna’s movements were chaotic in her interactions between the tricorder and screens, and yet simultaneously precise in her rhythmic motions to the music in her head. Everything she was doing was new and interesting to him.

He approached her and asked, “May I ask you a question?”

Once she realized he was there, her whole face erupted into that enormous smile he was beginning to anticipate and look forward to at each encounter. “Of course,” she replied.

“Are you once again hearing music that is not actually there?”

“Mmhm. Kind of wish I could turn this whole room into a giant, sparkling discotheque but I’m guessing that’d be against a pile of rules.”

“That would not be within standard operating procedure.”

“Speaking of standard operating procedure, tell me about dilithium vector calibrations.”

“Which aspect of the calibrations do you wish to know about?”

“All of it. It makes no sense to me. I’ve never performed one and I found it in the logs while also examining the drive’s previous peak threshold records and deuterium replenishment rates so I’ve been trying to figure out the point of the calibrations.”

“Ah, that is why you appeared to be taking multiple types of readings at the same time.”

“I’m not one for focusing on a single concept at a time.”

“You mentioned that we may have things in common. That would be an example of a trait we share.”

“Being a scatterbrain means I can visualize many integrated systems at once, which seems to either fascinate or irritate most people. But I can’t see how these vector calibrations fit in.”

Data nodded. “That is likely because the design specification for the new drive you helped create no longer requires dilithium vector calibrations. It would appear your unfamiliarity stems from lack of need to perform such a task. May I ask you another question?”

She laughed. “Data, I hereby grant you blanket permission to always ask me any question you like, whenever you like.”

“Hm. Thank you. That is very gracious of you. What song do you hear in your head right now?”

Anna leaned closer to him and quietly sang, _“You’re playin’ so cool, obeyin’ every rule. Dig way down in your heart, you’re burnin’, yearnin’ for some, somebody to tell you that life ain’t passin’ you by!”_ She stepped back, reached out both arms towards him, pointing with both index fingers, and continued increasingly louder as if the music was bursting out of her despite her attempt to keep it hushed. _“I’m tryin’ to tell you, it will if you don’t even try!”_ She held the last note for several seconds while looking at him expectantly.

“I am not familiar with that song.”

She dropped her arms, and he was concerned that he had somehow disappointed her. “It’s very upbeat and cheery and has a beat per minute rate of one-seventy-four which happens to exactly match the rhythm of our lovely drive here at warp five-point-four, so it’s been looping in my head all morning.”

“That is our standard cruising speed, so you will hear that beat frequently. My next question was going to be whether or not the songs vary, but perhaps they do not given that common tempo.”

“Some days it’s a bunch of songs all mashed together. Other days it’s just one, like right now.” She grinned at him and continued singing and dancing. _“Cut loose, footloose, kick off your Sunday shoes! Oooee, Marie, shake it, shake it for me! Whoah Milo, come on, come on, let’s go! Lose your blues, everybody cut footloose!”_

Then she laughed and wagged her right leg at him. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Footloose, see?” She laughed at her own joke but it trailed off awkwardly, so she shrugged and sighed.

“Forgive me, was that meant to be humorous?” Data asked.

“Meant to be, yeah, but don’t worry; nobody ever laughs at my jokes.”

“Ah. That is another thing we seem to have in common.”

“Being funny is harder than it looks, isn’t it?”

“Despite my continued studies of popular culture in general and comedy specifically, I seem to be unable to deliver a joke successfully. My friends often laugh at my telling of the joke, but rarely the joke itself.”

“You mean they laugh at you?”

“Not in an antagonistic manner. The problem is that I am unable to make my friends laugh when I intend to.”

Anna nodded understandingly. “You wish people would laugh at your jokes as much as your mistakes.”

“Indeed. I know thousands of jokes but apparently they are all considered to be ‘terrible’.”

Anna crossed her arms and grinned again. “Oh? Try me.”

“You wish to hear a joke?”

“Definitely.”

“I know several music-themed jokes. Perhaps one of those would be a good choice.”

“Yes please!”

“What is the difference between a guitar and a fish?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“It is possible to tune a guitar, but you cannot tuna fish.”

Anna laughed heartily, which gave Data a profound sense of satisfaction unlike he had ever experienced before. He eagerly asked, “Would you like to hear another?”

“Yes! Although let’s go back down, I need to check some of these readings against the central console.”

As they approached the lift, Data said, “Knock knock.”

Anna giggled and answered, “Who’s there?”

“Little old lady.”

“Little old lady who?”

As the lift reached the main level, Data stood aside to let Anna get out first and then said, “I was not aware you could yodel.”

Once again Anna laughed uproariously, this time attracting attention from several other nearby engineers who looked at each other in bewilderment. She bounced on her toes and insisted, “Do another!”

Quite pleased to oblige, Data asked, “Why did the pianist repeatedly hit his head against the piano keys?”

“Why?”

“He was playing by ear.”

She laughed so hard she made several small snorting noises in between breaths. Data instantly decided it was one of best things he had ever heard. He followed her to the main engineering central console with a bemused expression.

Geordi leaned over from his chair and asked, “Data, what the hell are you doing? Don’t break her with your jokes. We want her to stay, remember?”

“He’s hilarious!” Anna said as she started tapping the central console while also looking at her tricorder readings.

“You may be the nicest person in the galaxy to say that,” Geordi said, shaking his head.

Data’s brow instantly furrowed. “Anna, are you merely being kind with your laughter?”

“What? No! Those were funny! Tell me another, please?”

“Very well. Why did Mozart hate his chickens?”

“Why?”

“Because they kept running around saying, ‘Bach! Bach! Bach!’” Data said in a ridiculously bad impersonation of a chicken sound.

Anna leaned on the edge of the console and laughed again, her whole shoulders shaking with it.

Data said, “I have wondered about that one. Is it funny simply because of the simulated chicken sound, or did Mozart genuinely dislike Bach’s music?”

“No idea about the composers, but the chicken sounds were definitely funny.”

“No they weren’t,” came Geordi’s voice from around the corner.

Data moved to stand right beside Anna so he could quietly say, “Geordi in particular does not approve of my attempts to be humorous. Are you accessing the plasma residue maintenance schedule?”

“Yes, I’m compiling a list of the Enterprise’s standard procedures so I have an idea of any changes that might come with the new drive,” she replied. “That’s why I was asking about the vector calibrations and the other stuff.”

“I see. That is very sensible. Would you care to hear another joke?”

Anna leaned back to glance behind Data in the direction of Geordi’s corner, then grinned at Data conspiratorially and whispered, “Yes!”

Data began, “A man goes to a store to buy some kidneys –”

But Geordi shouted, “No! Not the kidneys one, Data, for crying out loud!”

Data looked to Anna, who nodded encouragingly, so he leaned in close and softly said, “The man says to the shopkeeper, ‘I would like a pound of kiddillies, please.’”

Geordi groaned loudly in protest.

Data continued, “The shopkeeper says to him, ‘You mean kidneys, do you not?’ The man says, ‘I said kiddillies, diddle I?’”

Anna laughed so hard that she had to wipe tears away from her eyes. Data was surprised that even the joke others had told him was his worst would make her laugh. It occurred to him that if he was ever able to feel elation, it must be similar to this experience.

“Oh that was good,” Anna said, fanning her face and still laughing.

“No it wasn’t,” Geordi said, which only cracked her up more.

Anna gripped the console as her laughter subsided. “I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed that hard. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Although I must admit, I am not entirely sure why that joke is funny.”

“Because it isn’t,” Geordi said flatly.

“I’m not entirely sure myself,” Anna said, giggling once again, “But every time Geordi says it’s not funny, it gets funnier.”

“Curious,” Data replied. He took a step back to peer around the corner.

Geordi was working at his console, but glanced up with a disapproving expression. Data shrugged at him and returned to the central console beside Anna.

“Oh, my sides hurt,” she said. “I’ve accessed the schedule for all routine maintenance but do you have any other standard procedures I should be checking?”

“That is likely. Here, I will compile a list for you,” he said as he tapped a panel quickly. “Geordi has always said that joke is too old and that I do not tell it well.”

“I haven’t heard any of these so they’re funny to me.”

“That is a reasonable hypothesis,” Data said. “There, I have completed the list and copied it to your file set so you may access it from any point, including your lab.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind and helpful. And now that I can breathe again, tell me more jokes.”

“In my attempts to learn humour in recent years, I have inadvertently acquired too many jokes that I later realized were predicated on mean-spirited themes or acts of lewdness. I have since purged many of those and found that much of what remains are basic puns. Many people seem to feel that puns are a low form of humour, but I find them to be satisfying in their simplicity. I have compiled several categories within that subset. For instance, I know several about clocks. Would you like to hear some of those?”

The groan from around the corner made Anna laugh anew. She nudged Data’s arm with her elbow and nodded at him, so he asked, “Did you hear someone is writing a book about clockmaking?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“It is about time,” Data replied.

Anna put her hand over her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle her laughter.

“Have you ever tried to eat a clock?” he asked.

“No, of course not.”

Data nodded. “You should not. It would be very time consuming. Why did the burglar rob the clock at midnight?”

“I don’t know,” she said through her laughter.

“So its hands would already be up.” Data began firing the jokes faster, thoroughly enjoying Anna’s continued laughter. “Why should you sit on a clock? Because then you will be on time. But what time was it when the targ sat on the clock? Time to get a new clock. Why should you take advice from a clock? Because it is clockwise. Are you all right?” he asked, noticing her face was very red.

“Yes, yes, but let me breathe, Jiminy Crickets,” she panted between peals.

“Perhaps I should attempt a different style. Why did the chicken cross the road?”

Anna wiped her eyes again and said, “Now wait, see, is that the one where the answer is, ‘To get to the other side’?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard that one and I don’t get it. Can you explain why that’s even a joke?”

“I cannot. I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

She blinked at him, raised an eyebrow, and then once again doubled over with laughter.

“Have you discovered why it is humorous?” he asked.

“No, but you supposing I might be able to explain it is so funny that I’m getting dizzy!”

Data grew concerned. “I do not wish to make you ill.”

“You’re not, you’re not,” she said, rubbing her face. “I’ve just never laughed this much in my whole life. Oh my. Here,” she said, bringing up another screen on the console. “Help me breathe again with something boring. Then tell me more jokes. Why, this may be the greatest day of my life!”

* * *

#### Stardate 47125.5 (Sunday 02/15/2370, 19:22) – Ten Forward

Geordi plonked himself onto a stool at the bar in Ten Forward, sighed, and let his shoulders slump.

Guinan came over and poured him some genuine single-malt whisky. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

He took the glass and held it reverently between his fingertips. “It’s been a very productive day, which is great, but I had to listen to Data tell his jokes all afternoon.”

Guinan immediately put the entire bottle beside him.

Geordi laughed. “See, now that’s actually funny. I believe you’re familiar with Data’s jokes.

“Oh yes. I’m still in recovery. Why the hell would he put you through that?”

“It wasn’t for me. It was in spite of me and every other poor soul in engineering.” Geordi sipped and then whistled appreciatively. “We’ve got this new consultant and she’s…well I knew before she came aboard that she was a bit strange and it’s been clear since she got here that she’s even stranger than I thought, but what I saw today blew my mind.”

“Oh?”

“She laughs at Data’s jokes.”

“She must be very kind,” Guinan surmised.

“No, see, that’s just it. She was genuinely laughing.”

“Has he downloaded new material?”

“Nope. It’s the same painful stuff, the same terrible puns and stretched punchlines. But I guess she hasn’t heard them before, or something. There were a couple she didn’t seem to get but even then she’d grin at him and ask for another one.”

“Wait, someone actually asked for Data’s jokes? Voluntarily?”

“Uh-huh.” He took another drink. “She asked for more over and over again for nearly six hours straight.”

Guinan winced.

Geordi lifted a finger in the air. “And the thing was, they were still getting things done. It was this weird harmony of prepping for the new warp core and then he’d tell a joke and she’d laugh. And then she’d ask him about a standard maintenance procedure and he’d answer and tell another and she’d laugh. Then they’d be waiting for the computer to compile their requests so she’d ask for a string of jokes and he has an infinite supply. I tried to distract them, I tried to pile enough other things on them – way more than I have any right to do to him as second officer or her as a guest expert – but they’d babble their way through it all together like they were sharing a super-speed brain and at every pause in the tech stuff he’d tell another joke. It was constant torture but I couldn’t tell them to cut it out because they were blazing through more work I’d get done in a week!” He lifted his hands to demonstrate his surrender, and then sighed and took another drink.

“She sounds fascinating. When do I get to meet her?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to mingle far outside of engineering. She might never come up here.” But then he sat up, grinned, and snapped his fingers. “But wait, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

“Thinking of inviting her to your party in here?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect! She’ll have met most people coming, and the people she doesn’t want to meet are mostly not around anyway. I just might be able to convince her to come, especially since Data’s coming.”

“Sounds like they’re peas in a pod already.”

“Yeah, the moment she stepped on board she asked him to be her friend.” Geordi swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. “It was weird at first, but I have to admit it turned out to be kind of sweet. I think they get each other on some strange level, and he’s never really had that with anyone before. I get the feeling she hasn’t either.”

“Apparently they at least have the same sense of humour,” Guinan said.

Geordi lifted his glass. “Here’s to their friendship, and here’s also to hoping he runs out of material before I experience irreparable brain damage.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Data's friendship progresses. Picard pursues leads about the destruction of Nafir.
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47126.9 (Monday 02/16/2370, 07:38) – Deck Thirty-Eight – Port Nacelle Pylon

“Thank you Data. It’s one thing to know these systems inside out in spec diagrams, but seeing them in person is really helpful,” Anna said as she and Data wrapped up his tour of the propulsion side of the warp engine and began to walk casually towards main engineering.

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I regret that I was unable to show you the interior of the nacelle at this time beyond the control room.”

“Actually I’m pretty keen on the part where we don’t go into live field coils and get fried!” she replied with a laugh. “Nacelle bits can wait until we’re stopped somewhere. Where’s the ship headed right now, anyway? Or am I allowed to ask?”

“You may always ask. It is rare that our destination is kept secret from the general crew. We are proceeding to Starbase 247 to exchange supplies and to retrieve some personnel who have been attending a conference there.”

“So basically that’s what you all do all the time? Fly around and talk to people from different worlds and look at space stuff?”

“That is an apt generalization, yes. Your tone suggests it seems unusual to you.”

“It’s the opposite of what I worked on for most of my life,” Anna said with a shrug. “All I wanted to do was get home.”

“To Earth.”

“Yeah. I’ve never been anywhere else other than Earth and Covaris Two. The Baltimore made stops along our way but I wasn’t ever allowed off the ship. At the time I thought Mom and Captain Dager were being mean but I’ve learned since that I wasn’t supposed to be on board and I was being kept hidden.”

“So you have never visited any other planet?”

“When would I have?”

Data nodded. “Hm, indeed. You will have ample opportunity to do so now, if you wish.”

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head slowly. “Not a chance in hell,” she said, emphasizing every word.

“Why not?” Data asked, genuinely perplexed that she could be so boldly experimental about technology but so timid about exploring the planets that very technology was made to reach.

“So many reasons!” she said, drawing her arms in and shrinking back as if she was suddenly surrounded by terrible threats. “With my luck I’d end up forgotten and left behind!”

It bothered Data on a deep level to see her so frightened by a scenario that required such significant lack of concern for her wellbeing. “Anna, that would not happen. Neither Geordi nor I would allow the Enterprise to leave if you were not safely back on board. The captain would never allow any member of the crew to be abandoned in such a fashion.”

A peculiar darkness passed over her face, a sort of scowl but more pained. She shook her head and it dissipated instantly as she mustered a thin, joyless smile that Data found highly disconcerting. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but at best I’d be a disruption if I went anywhere. I know nothing of diplomatic protocols. I can barely cope with human social requirements, so I’d likely start a war with some otherworldly folks because I’d say something stupid or step on the wrong plant or do the wrong handshake or, worst of all, accidentally blurt out a bit of a song and then trip all over myself trying to fix it. I’ve met several Vulcans so I know how badly that goes. They hate me, you know. Vulcans always hate me.”

Data was confused. “Vulcans are specifically known for eschewing emotionally laden values such as ‘hate’.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the dirty looks I get from every single one I’ve been in a room with. Ensign Taurik glares at me all the time.”

“Ensign Taurik looks at everybody like that. Lieutenant Navarro calls it ‘resting Vulcan face’.”

“Well there was also the time Dr. Cortez dragged me to a conference in Boston and one particular lecture was amazing so at the end I got up all of my courage and went to talk to the speaker. I got so excited while we were talking that I accidentally sang a few words and did this,” she said, bouncing on her toes a little bit. “But then a voice behind me as cold as a block of ice said, ‘I don’t know who you are but you would do well to remember this is a professional, scientific lecture hall, not community theatre,’” she said in imitation of the deep voice. “I turned around and there were three Vulcans glaring down at me. I was reminded all over again that I never belong, I never get it right. The last thing I’m going to do is visit some strange world just to screw it all up and embarrass myself and get the whole Federation in trouble or something.”

“That was an unfortunate experience. I have observed that humans often interpret Vulcan reticence as more unkind than Vulcans intend, but those words were indeed unduly harsh. However, you should know that I have encountered many scientists who demonstrate open joy for their field, including a few who even sing and dance about it.”

She visibly relaxed and her eyes lit up at the prospect. “Really? Like who?”

“Dr. Berrie Porter is a renowned expert in multicellular pathogens who composes and performs their own operatic pieces on the subject. I was privileged to attend one of their performances at a conference last year. The USS Potempkin’s entire stellar cartography department has performed as an a-capella group singing science-themed songs for many years, going back at least as long as Commander Riker was on board because he has spoken of enjoying their concerts. Lieutenant Navarro here in engineering and her husband Lieutenant Navarro in exobiology routinely engage in competitive ballroom dancing at events around the quadrant and more than once have choreographed exquisite routines that incorporate thematic elements of their research, although these do tend to be admittedly fairly esoteric.”

“Wow, I had no idea,” Anna said. “Do they ever perform here on board?”

“Yes. The Enterprise routinely hosts small performances of a variety of arts including music, dance, poetry, drama, and of course Ensign Davies from stellar cartography uses any excuse he can get to demonstrate his fire-breathing skills.”

“Fire-breathing?! Where is he from?”

“Omaha, on Earth. It is apparently an ancient circus act.”

“Oh, so he’s human,” she said with a laugh as they entered main engineering. “I thought maybe he was some kind of dragon-like race.”

“I believe he wishes he was,” Data said. “The next scheduled performance is in four days’ time, at 1800 in Ten Forward, a concert featuring a woodwind ensemble formed of crew members from various departments. Perhaps you should attend.”

Anna shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “Sounds nice, but that’s probably more random socialization than I can cope with just yet.”

Data nodded. “All performances are listed in the ship’s open calendar. Perhaps as you become more comfortable with various people on board, you will likewise become more comfortable attending such events.”

“Maybe.”

Geordi approached them and asked, “What have you two been up to? Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night again,” he said specifically to Anna.

“I did warn you I keep unusual hours. Data has kindly been giving me a tour of the drive systems.”

Geordi grinned. “And talking up the concerts from what I overheard just now. Watch out, if you play an instrument he’ll rope you into one of his quartets or quintets or whatever he’s got going at the moment.”

Data’s brow furrowed. “Participation in our concerts is entirely voluntary.”

Geordi laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean that literally, Data.”

Data’s brow lifted again. “Ah. I understand.”

“Well I don’t play an instrument anyway. I can’t even read music,” Anna said.

“But you are clearly highly interested in music and sing so well,” Data replied, once again confused.

“You are very sweet, but all I’ve ever done is belt out show tunes in my private little wreck. It’s not as if I studied any of it. I can sing passably but I can’t dance in reality the way I can in my mind because even with the peg leg all I do is trip over it. I can’t even whistle a proper tune. I’m not fit for the stage, trust me.”

Data nodded sympathetically. “Whistling is a skill I have practiced and yet still cannot adequately perform myself.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Anna asked. “When you can know everything about how it works and how the notes sound but they just never come out right?”

Geordi whistled a short ditty, put his hands on his hips, and grinned proudly at each of them in turn. “Finally! Something I can beat both of you at!”

Anna laughed and applauded him. “Spectacular! Between the three of us we can form a whole vaudeville act that nobody will ever want to see: I’ll sing, Data’ll tell jokes, you whistle. _We’ll all take a bow, including the cow, though business is lousy and slow,_ ” she finished in light song.

“Actually Data’s quite the singer,” Geordi said.

Anna’s eyes widened as she turned back to Data. “Really? I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

“I would be happy to oblige, given the right circumstances.”

“At the party tonight?” Geordi suggested.

“That is a reasonable possibility, especially if you wish it,” Data replied to him.

“Party?” Anna asked.

“It is Geordi’s birthday today,” Data explained.

“Oh I see. Happy birthday!”

“Save it for tonight,” he said with a brush-off wave. “You should come. Most of engineering will be there. Ten Forward at 1800.”

Anna began to withdraw slightly, and Data noticed she was once again pulling her arms and shoulders inward. “It’s very kind of you to invite me but I wouldn’t know what to do or say. I’ve never been to a party before.”

“You don’t have to do or say anything. Just hang out and have a good time.” Geordi noticed frightened posture as well and added, “It’s completely safe.”

“You’re a senior officer. You both are. Other senior officers will be there. That’s very…intimidating.”

“Actually the captain’s still on leave, Counsellor Troi doesn’t get back until we get to Starbase 247 tomorrow, Worf doesn’t come to parties unless we spring them on him directly, so pretty much that leaves Doctor Crusher and Commander Riker.” Geordi scrutinized Anna’s reaction as he added, “The commander will probably spend most of the time playing his trombone with the band in the corner.”

But instead of reacting to any information about Riker, Anna perked up a bit as she asked, “Band? A live band?”

“Oh yeah. Engineer parties are actually fun. Command parties are the stiff ones with speeches and networking. Engineers know what parties are really for: being loud and leaving all of our cares at the door.”

Anna sighed, twisting her hands before her nervously. “Maybe. It’s a long way up into that section, though. A long way back if I feel overwhelmed and need to flee.”

“If it would help, I am entirely willing to escort you to ensure you feel safe there and back,” Data offered.

The relief on her face was clear as she said, “That is very kind of you. Thank you. Okay, I’ll try to muster up the courage, then.”

“Great! Guinan wants to meet you, by the way. If that’s all right with you.”

“Who’s Guinan?”

Data explained, “She runs Ten Forward. She is an exemplary person. I am confident you will like her.”

“Okay. But for now I’m going to try to think of something else so I don’t sit worrying myself into a state over it all,” Anna said as she sat down at the console.

* * *

#### Stardate 47128.05 (Monday 02/16/2370, 17:43) – Bridge

“Sir, we have an incoming request from Commander Rosen from Deep Space Four,” Worf reported. “She says a Tarkanian diplomatic delegation is seeking transport to Starbase 718 when we are scheduled to be passing back this way in two weeks’ time on our mission to the Argus sector. Apparently our course suits them better than their originally planned transport ship.”

Riker grinned. “Our course or our Galaxy-class accommodations?”

“Commander Rosen has not specified.”

Riker chuckled to himself, missing Picard and Troi, both of whom would have appreciated his little joke. “Please respond to the commander that presuming our orders do not change in the intervening time, we’d be happy to transport the fine Tarkanian delegation.”

“Yes sir,” Worf said in a low grumble.

Riker wasn’t sure if Worf disapproved of Tarkanians, transporting diplomats, irreverence on the bridge, or if it was just his way of grumbling about nearly everything, but whatever it was he thought it was time to loosen his friend up. “At 1800 I’ll hand you the bridge and head down to Ten Forward for Geordi’s party. That is unless you want me to find someone else to take the bridge so you can join the party too.”

“Thank you sir, but I prefer to remain at my post,” Worf replied.

“Are you sure? And miss all the fun?” Riker said, suppressing another grin.

Worf’s slow sigh was very quiet, but since Riker knew to expect it, he could just barely make it out.

Riker added, “I’ll even play some of your favourite arias on my trombone, if you want.”

“No thank you, sir.”

Riker’s grin came out in full force and lingered for several minutes as he contemplated the relative horror of jazz versions of Klingon opera.

* * *

Anna stood at the central console in main engineering, comparing notes she’d made on a PADD throughout the day to information in the central computer. Data was nearby, performing routine inspections on several of the wall consoles, and noticed when she began to hum. He didn’t say anything because the tune was unfamiliar, pleasing, and he was concerned that if he spoke, she’d stop.

Soon she began to very quietly sing:

_  
Anyone can whistle, any old day, easy.  
It’s all so simple: relax let go let fly!  
So someone tell me why can’t I?  
I can fix a warp coil, change the transitional peak, easy.  
I can slay a dragon any old week, easy.  
What’s hard is simple, what’s natural comes hard.  
Maybe you can show me, how to let go, lower my guard,  
Learn to be free.  
Maybe if you whistle, whistle for me.  
_

Data found himself drawn in by he perfection of her voice and came to stand on the opposite side of the central console to observe her more closely. On the last note she looked up at him sheepishly and said, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget there are others around trying to concentrate.”

“I am entirely able to concentrate regardless of external stimuli. That was extremely good.”

She half-shrugged. “It’s how I feel a lot. It’s been in my head since this morning when we talked about whistling.”

Data tilted his head, then arched his eyebrows in understanding. “I too know what it is like to have mastery in one area yet feel insufficient in another. In some sense, that is a defining aspect of my existence. But I meant that your singing was very nice. You keep referring to your singing in middling terms such as ‘passable’, but based on what I have heard you appear to be much better than you realize.”

“That’s very kind of you, but it’s one thing to belt out a tune alone in big tin box where nobody can hear you, and quite another to be heard. I can hit most of the right notes most of the time, but I’ll never be a great singer.”

“Why not?”

“That’s for other people, I guess. You know, the type with training and a desire to be on the stage or in a recording booth or whatever.”

“I have observed that many humans long for the fame and glory that comes with great performance talents. Do you not wish for these things?”

Her eyes went wide with fear. “Hah! No! Geez Louise I couldn’t stand to have a bunch of people staring at me on purpose waiting for me to be good at something in front of them!”

His brow furrowed. “Curious. Is it that you fear failing in front of others? Stage fright?”

“I can’t even contemplate that much of it. I just can’t cope with a bunch of people looking at me. Or even being in a crowd.” Anna shuddered, and then leaned over the console to whisper, “Like this party tonight. Part of me really, really wants to go but most of me is terrified.”

“Of what?”

She rolled her eyes at herself and tried to explain. “I grew up supposing that what I wanted more than anything was to be surrounded by people. But then once I actually got back to where the people were, I quickly realized that it’s no fun being surrounded by people who are cold, or uncaring, or sometimes even mean. The first time I found myself in a crowded city street, I nearly passed out from terror.” She shuddered again. “I’m afraid that people will laugh at me, or turn their backs, or otherwise be cruel. Singing randomly while I’m working is different because I’m not trying to impress anyone. If someone doesn’t like it I can shut up, no big deal, the music goes on in my head anyway. I have no interest in finding out how many people would boo me off of a stage.”

“The performances I told you about earlier are all entirely friendly. I have never witnessed a cruel audience on board the Enterprise, or anywhere else for that matter. Perhaps one day you will feel comfortable enough to try and see that the number of people who would boo would, in fact, be zero.”

“Well I’m not singing tonight, that’s for certain,” she said firmly.

“But you will come?”

She looked at him intensely, as if searching his face for something. Since he wasn’t sure what she was looking for, he attempted to put on a friendly expression, but being uncertain precisely how to do that he ended up appearing as if he was fluctuating between a small smile and a ridiculous grin. She laughed, and though it all remained quite confusing for him, he accepted that as a positive result.

Geordi came from around the corner and announced to the entirety of main engineering, “I guess it’s time for me to go now and pretend absolutely nothing of interest will happen in Ten Forward tonight.” The other engineers started gathering around and grinning at each other. “See you all soon,” Geordi said, then strode out. Several crew followed him, while a few others quickly wrapped up tasks.

Anna watched him go and asked Data, “Is he not having a party then?”

“He is,” Data said.

From behind her Reg said, “It’s not really a surprise party but he always likes to pretend it is.”

She turned to him, confused. “How do you pretend something is a surprise if you already know about it?”

“That is something I have wondered for some time,” Data admitted.

Reg asked Anna, “You’re coming, right? It’s always a good party as far as parties go, which I don’t really know much about. But from what I hear about other parties this is a good one in that it’s fun, I guess, if you like that sort of thing. I mean, that is…it’s…it’s nice to join in. So everyone says. It’s important to socialize with…real people.”

“So I’ve heard,” Anna said.

“Yeah me too,” Reg replied. Then, seemingly confused by his own words, he awkwardly left.

Anna and Data remained at the central console until nearly everyone else had gone out, and it was clear that those who remained were likely staying for the remainder of the shift.

Data gently said, “You are clearly conflicted about going. I do not wish to pressure you, but Geordi and I both hope to make you feel comfortable here. He will not take offense if you do not come. We simply wish to be welcoming.”

“I want to. I’m just…scared. Sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. I will do all that I can to ensure you can relax and enjoy yourself.”

She smiled at him. “You’ll be my own personal deflector dish?”

“That is a strange analogy, but I suppose apt if you are anticipating too many people coming at you.”

“That’s exactly what I fear, yes.”

“Ten Forward is quite large and there are quieter corners to be found. I will show you.”

She took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “Okay. A quiet corner sounds nice. I’ll try.”

As they began walking out, he said, “If you do not mind, I would like to make a diversion to my quarters on the way to get the gift.”

Anna froze in horror. “Gift! I didn’t even think of that! I don’t have a gift! I don’t even know how to do that!”

“It would not be expected of you. Very few people on board give gifts at birthdays. I do because I have found it to be an enriching experience to first analyze my friends’ likely needs and desires, attempt to give them something that would make them happy, and then further analyze their response.” His brow furrowed again. “It is a difficult process. I have learned that they always accept these gifts with ample displays of gratitude, but it is rare to find something they actually truly wish for. The most consistent thing I have learned is that nobody wants a picture of my cat.”

“Why not?”

“I do not know.”

They resumed walking, with Anna checking every corner and the turbolift car carefully before proceeding. Data patiently waited for her every time she paused to perform these little acts of reconnaissance, recognizing it was important for her even though he knew no threat was likely. She became extremely nervous as they stepped out of the turbolift near his quarters on Deck Two, so much so that when he opened the door to his quarters she leapt inside as if she was being pursued. But once the door closed behind them, her entire posture immediately relaxed as if there had never been any threat at all.

Anna glanced around casually and asked, “So where’s this cat?”

“Likely hiding. Spot does not like strangers.” He awkwardly admitted, “She does not like anybody other than myself and Mr. Barclay.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a wrapped present.

“Very pretty,” Anna said.

“I have had limited success in giving other friends paintings I have created, but since Geordi takes off his VISOR in his quarters I have always wondered if a painting would be an insensitive gift. This year, however, I had what I hope is a good idea: I located a photo of his parents from their wedding day and have created a three dimensional relief model that he can touch.”

She put her hands over her heart and said, “Oh that is very sweet!”

“Is it? I am hoping he likes it. He is very close with them but has been unable to visit for some time since they each have their own command which makes family gatherings difficult to schedule. I am hoping this rendering will give him the same comfort that I have observed photos of loved ones provide for others.”

“I can’t speak for Geordi but that’s just about the kindest gift I’ve ever heard of. I bet he’s going to love it.”

“That would be an optimal result. Shall we?” he said, indicating the door.

Once more she took a deep, resolving breath, nodded, and said, “Right. Let’s do this. Off to see the Wizard.”

Data was confused about whom she was referring to, but as she seemed keen to go, he led the way.

* * *

#### Stardate 47128.1 (Monday 02/16/2370, 18:09) – Dessica Two – City of Shiloh – Unnamed Bar

Picard sighed into his drink. It was the same foul brew that every squalid pub in this wretched excuse for a city served, and it was disgusting. Some of the bars with actual names offered more upscale beverages – one even had something that could loosely be described as “wine” if he ignored the scolding voice of his brother in his mind – but he’d quickly learned that ordering anything other than the general swill garnered unwanted attention. At first he’d thought appearing to have money might yield information, but it quickly became clear that the appearance of means attracted only those who sought to take it from him.

The only saving grace was that in the truly low-end outfits – and in a city with no high end, that was saying something – the crooked barkeeps watered the drinks down enough that he could appear to be imbibing while still keeping his head.

He had successfully rebranded himself as Galen, an antiquities smuggler available for hire. A trader in the previous watering hole had told him there was work to be found in this one, so he had slipped the barkeep an extra coin along with what he hoped were the correct phrases to have potential employers sent his way whom he could then question without raising too much suspicion.

So far he’d determined that almost nobody in Shiloh cared much about Nafir, which in one sense made things easier in that there were fewer people to question. However it also meant that asking about it made him stick out and there was little information to be found. Picard had been shocked at how many of the residents of the area were oblivious to the history around them, but then again with this level of transient population he surmised there was little reason for most of these people to care about Dessica at all.

He’d confirmed what he’d known from his general overview of Dessica Two before he’d arrived: everything was effectively run by either the Orion Syndicate or the Yridians with a tacit, vaguely profitable peace between the two. What government existed was merely a veneer of semi-legitimacy running alongside those groups and at their pleasure. He’d also discovered that while in theory everyone on the planet was affiliated with one group or the other, the truth was most people couldn’t care less and were quick to bend whichever way the wind blew around them. Apparently this had actually made it difficult for the Orion Syndicate in particular to gain a true foothold because it turned out that organized crime required stable organization to thrive, and Dessica Two was about as organized as a windswept pile of autumn leaves.

This meant that latinum was king, making it relatively easy for a clever detective like Picard to sniff out leads, pay off informants, and end up here, hoping to be contacted by a group he believed had searched Nafir for something they believed to be of value. He wasn’t certain if they were the ones who’d caused the destruction or if they’d been likewise thwarted by it, but whoever they were, they were the closest he’d come to learning what had happened and why anyone would care to obliterate ruins with no apparent commercial value.

As he sat staring into his glass, swirling it gently, a woman from a humanoid species Picard couldn’t immediately identify took the other seat at his table. “I’m Vekor, and you’re Galen,” she declared. She had long ears connected smoothly from temple to jaw, narrow eyebrows and nose to match, and disarrayed, tall tufts of bright red hair. The instant she smiled at him, he knew she’d been sent to distract him with her aggressively attractive features. He also knew it was important to pretend that it was working to some degree if he wanted to keep her talking while still playing it cool enough to not appear the fool to her flirtatious smile.

He raised an eyebrow at her, made an overly visible show of looking her over – an action he always considered to be base and repugnant when he observed anyone doing it, especially men to women in situations precisely such as this – and then answered simply, “I am. What of it?”

“I’ve heard you’re available for…piecework.”

Picard decided to go full-throttle on this coarse aspect of the character he was building on the fly. “Depends on the piece,” he replied with deliberately risqué inflection.

She attempted to react coquettishly, but he could see right through her facade; she hated doing this, and was only proceeding because someone was requiring it of her. _The Orion Syndicate?_ he wondered. _No, they’d have plenty of young women in their employ eager to please. Vekor has all the hallmarks of a mercenary, not a call-girl._ Picard decided with significant relief to cease the bogus flirtation and get to the point, in hopes that it would gain ground with Vekor on a more useful level. He leaned in and said, “You don’t want to be here any more than I do, so why don’t we both cut the bullshit and get to the point? What’s the job?”

Vekor narrowed her eyes at him, but then grinned much more naturally. “You’re not hired yet, Galen. My employer has a very particular set of requirements.”

“Don’t we all?”

She laughed. “Baran is even more particular than most.”

Picard quickly attempted to go through every rumour he’d heard over the last few days, but nothing with the name of “Baran” came to mind. He suddenly wished Data was with him with a full and accurate record of everything that had been said. But he had to push aside thoughts of his venerated crew, not only to focus on the task at hand but in case there were any sort of mind-readers around. He put on a scowl and asked, “Baran? Never heard of him.”

Vekor replied, “That’s the way Baran prefers it. Notoriety can be expensive.”

“My skill set is also expensive.”

“And what skills are in your set, Galen?”

“I’m the best handler of antiquities on this side of the quadrant.”

“Oh really? Because we haven’t heard of you, either.”

“That is the way I prefer it,” he said with a smug expression. “I let my wares speak for me. I sift through the trash heaps of the galaxy and find the true artifacts prized by top collectors.”

“Then why are you here looking for work?”

This answer he had at the ready, having rehearsed it for some time in advance. “Because my last patron was foolish enough to get himself arrested for treason against the Romulan Senate, leaving me to escape with only what I could carry. His downfall nearly dragged me along with him, but another one of my skills is slipping through the cracks in the nick of time. I know this business, I know its pitfalls, and I know how to avoid them. Now, what is it you and this Baran fellow need done?”

“What we need is someone who can help us go through a large set of objects using a specific set of parameters,” came a voice from behind him.

He turned to see another unfamiliar species: a man with a diagonally ridged forehead and lines of hair cascading back from said ridges. He had a somewhat feline quality about him, both in appearance and movements, as if he was a humanoid cat toying with a mouse.

Picard was determined not to be that mouse. “Well then you’ve come to the right man. I know Romulan antiquities, the latest scanning techniques, and how to get them wherever the client needs them to go.”

“What about Vulcan artifacts?” the man asked as he nodded to Vekor to move and took her seat. She stood behind him, arms crossed, clearly his subordinate but not necessarily happy about that. Again, Picard found this dynamic interesting because it further indicated they were not part of the Orion Syndicate.

“Vulcan, Federation, Romulan, Klingon, any of it,” Picard said dismissively, as if the rich and varied cultures of the quadrant meant nothing to him at all. “Are you Baran?”

The other man stared at him with a stony expression for a moment, and then replied, “I am.”

“And who do you work for?” Picard ventured, hoping his brazenness would make him seem tough without pushing too far.

“I work for me,” Baran said, but Picard could tell by Vekor’s eyes that he was lying. Baran was his own man, yes, but someone was pulling his strings at the moment, and Vekor wasn’t keen on any of it. _Is she his business partner?_ he wondered. _No, too annoyed but cowed. Too cold to be his lover, too close to the edge of defiance to be his friend. Baran has something over her, and now someone is controlling him in turn and Vekor is irritated but required to go along with it,_ Picard guessed.

“Well I’d need to know more about the job before giving it any serious consideration,” Picard said. “Where would this work take place? Here on Dessica Two or do you have a ship? Are others already working on this ‘large set of objects’ or would it just be me?”

“You ask an awful lot of questions, Galen,” Baran said with a low growl.

“My time is my own and I won’t waste it on inconsequential assignments,” Picard retorted. “If you’ve got items of value to appraise, I’m the man for the job but I need to know the job suits me.”

Baran pulled a small object out from a pocket and put it on the table between them. “Appraise this and show me you know what you’re talking about.”

Picard instantly recognized it as a “klhu’rihan”, loosely translated as a talisman that could guard “The Declared” – the self-description used by the original Romulans who had split off from Vulcan culture – from external threats as well as bring good fortune to the house where it was kept. Nearly every Romulan household had a klhu’rihan of some sort; the designs and methods of display had changed over the centuries, but the basic form and markings had stayed the same. It was not of any particular economic value, nor of any archaeological significance. This one was clearly old, but it was like being presented with an arrowhead dug out of a back garden on Earth: a lovely little bit of the past, a pleasure to touch and connect with, but not especially noteworthy.

What did catch his eye were the markings around the base; it was from Nafir. Picard had to be very careful to contain both his excitement at discovering the likely plunderers as well as his rage for what they’d done. He made a show of studying it for a moment, then looked Baran square in the eye and said, “If you’re impressed by an old klhu’rihan, you are in the wrong field.”

Baran extended his hands out sideways in an exaggerated sort of shrug. “And if that’s all you think it is, we’re done here.”

Picard noticed that two more men were now lurking nearby, clearly waiting for instructions. “It’s from Nafir, not far from here,” he said. “Early settlement style, making it about seven hundred years old, likely passed down within a household until the Romulans abandoned the area at which point it was likely forgotten along with Grandma’s other rubbish. It has no significant value I can discern without using a scanner to see if it’s hiding anything. Why are you collecting knickknacks from Nafir? Have a buyer with a keen interest in ancient Romulan dust collectors, do you?”

Baran grinned, then chuckled a little. “You know, Galen, I could almost like you if you weren’t so irritatingly arrogant. Arrogance isn’t useful to me. Results are. If I presented you with more of these ‘knickknacks’ as you call them, could you replicate the tools needed to determine if any of them have a specific terikon particle decay profile?”

“Of course,” Picard retorted, confident that he could figure it out, at least. _But what an odd request,_ he thought, unsure if it was what Baran really wanted or if he was just being tested. “And what would such a service be worth to you? My fee would vary depending on where you’d need the work to take place. As I asked before –”

“You ask too many questions,” Baran snapped. “You’ll get your share when we find what we need.” With that, he made a motion with his head that summoned the others out of the shadows.

Picard had no intention of being taken anywhere he couldn’t readily track. The Enterprise wasn’t due to pick him up for a few days yet and he’d hidden his tracks very well as part of going underground to find this much information. He knew there’d be no way for his crew to find him. He decided this would have to be enough for now, and to throw the might of the Federation on these scoundrels from the safety of his own bridge.

Two of the other men reached for him and he deftly blocked the attempt, managing to get a solid punch to the jaw on the bigger of the two. But as that one staggered back, a third came into the fray.

Picard began to worry about his chances. He grabbed his glass of swill and threw it in the eyes of the third, but in doing so exposed his flank to the remaining one standing, who socked him hard, winding him.

Still, he relied on his training and stayed upright enough to swing another fist, this one landing in that third man’s face. With the three men at least partially dealt with, Picard tried to leap past Baran and Vekor for the exit, but Vekor pulled out a phaser and pointed it at him. As he stepped back, one of the men on the floor grabbed Picard’s leg and pulled him to the ground. Before he could even contemplate whether to attempt to get up or surrender, Vekor fired.

Picard saw the beam come at him in the slow-motion way that happens when the human mind attempts to process too many threats at once. He knew this was it, this was the end, and that he could not dodge this blow. As he felt the heat of the beam against his chest, he expected to see his proverbial life flashing before his eyes, but instead all he could think about were the people he would miss the most. He saw his mother smiling at him. He saw the faces of the family that was never truly his from Kataan, especially his beloved daughter Meribor and her little son. Finally there was Beverly, the way she always looked at him with unspoken affection, and as his entire world disappeared into darkness he regretted never having spoken of his own.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for Geordi's birthday party!
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47128.1 (Monday 02/16/2370, 18:14) – Enterprise – Ten Forward

In the corridor just outside the doors to the already noisy Ten Forward, Anna suddenly paused and twisted her hands nervously. Data waited patiently for a moment to see if she was changing her mind, but he could not tell if she wished to stay or leave so he asked, “Would more jokes help?”

She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the doors, but she nodded.

Data dutifully asked, “Why can you never starve in a desert?”

Anna turned just enough to look up at him expectantly.

“Because of all the sand which is there.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled a little, then resolutely nodded once more and took a tentative step forward. Data guided her inside and up to an empty table at the quiet port side of the room. Most of the rest of the attendees were boisterously drinking and talking in the middle and starboard of the room, with the band in the starboard corner. He paid particular attention to her reaction as she regarded the band, looking to see if she reacted to Commander Riker, but she did not. She merely smiled nervously at the entire gathering, sat down, and clasped her hands tightly on the table in front of her.

He took the seat beside her, set the gift at the far end of the table. “Would you like anything? I would be happy to bring you food or drink so you can stay back here where it is more calm, if you wish.”

“No, I…um…no thank you. Not yet anyway. You’re very sweet, though.”

“Would you like to hear more jokes?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Perhaps, given the nature of the event, I should draw upon related categories.”

“You can tell me any joke you wish, forever and always. Your kindness is the only thing keeping me from bursting into tears right now.”

Data’s brow furrowed. “If you are that uncomfortable, we can leave.”

She shook her head. “No, I need to get better at this. I don’t want to hide away forever. I need to push myself, and having you support me like this is the opportunity I’ve always needed. It’s a party, not an inquisition. I need to learn to relax and enjoy myself.”

“As you wish. Why did the mushroom wish to attend the party?”

She laughed a little. “I know this one but I want to hear you say the answer anyway.”

“Because he was a member of the kingdom fungi.” Both her smile and laughter increased, so he proceeded to another. “A banana walked into a bar and ordered a drink, but the bartender said, ‘I am sorry, we do not serve food in here.’”

“I like that one,” she said, appearing more at ease.

“Did you hear about the restaurant on the Class D planet that failed?”

“No.”

“The food was great but there was no atmosphere. Because it was a Class D planet,” he explained, and she laughed with one of those little snorting noises again, making him smile in return without even noticing. “Two men walk into a bar. You would have thought at least one of them would have seen it.”

She blinked for a moment, but then laughed loudly when she got it, and once again Data experienced a rush of sensations throughout his positronic matrix that he could not articulate without using emotional descriptors he knew to be impossible. He began to focus so much of his attention on keeping her happy that the rest of the party faded into his background processing until he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Lieutenant Sorenson’s unnecessarily loud voice call out, “Commander! You haven’t sung yet!”

Data turned to him and politely replied, “The party has barely begun. I will sing later.”

“Pierson, Dern, and I need a fourth for a quartet version of ‘I Got Rhythm’ later on. Come practice with us while the band gets this jazz nonsense over with.”

Data considered refusing, but he saw Anna’s face light up at the suggestion. He asked, “Do you like that song?”

“Are you kidding? That’s both a Judy Garland and a Gene Kelly classic. It’s one of the best songs ever.”

“Hey, new kid’s got taste!” Sorenson bellowed.

Anna shrank back from the tall lieutenant’s enthusiasm, but then leaned over to Data and said, “I’ll be okay here. You’ve helped a lot already.”

“Are you certain? I do not wish to abandon you.”

“Trust me, I know abandonment and this isn’t it,” she said, a flash of sadness passing over her eyes. But then she smiled at him again and added, “Anyway, I’m kind of desperate to hear you sing. Go on, I’ll be safe right here.”

Data was conflicted; he did not wish to end the pleasant experience of making her laugh, but he very much wanted to know what her reaction would be to seeing him perform with the others. When she nodded at him encouragingly again, he went off with Sorenson.

* * *

Geordi was enjoying himself thoroughly in the thick of the boisterous bunch. Ordinarily the noise would be overwhelming, but it was a party, his party, and every once in awhile it just felt good to let go and dive into the mayhem.

He felt a hand on his elbow and turned to see Doctor Crusher there. “Happy birthday!” she said, hugging him.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Another year around whatever it is we go around these days.”

“Older and wiser, Geordi, older and wiser,” she said. She looked over his shoulder towards the port side of the room and asked, “Is that White back there?”

He turned enough to check, and then confirmed, “Yeah, that’s her.”

“I thought she was going to be hiding away. Does this mean the crew’s been doing a good job making her feel comfortable?”

Geordi shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. She’s very skittish, but she seems to be making friends in engineering okay, especially Data.”

“Really?” Crusher asked.

“Yeah. She only agreed to come when he said he’d walk her up here.”

“That’s good of him, especially up here into the realm of red uniforms.”

Geordi stepped a bit further away from the throng and indicated for the Doctor to follow him so he could more quietly tell her, “Yeah, on that: I think it’s the captain she’s avoiding.”

“What? Why?”

“When I said he’s still not even on board and Counsellor Troi isn’t here either, she relaxed big time.”

“How strange. What can she possibly have against the captain?”

Geordi shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Crusher frowned for a moment, and then shrugged as well. “Well I think it’s sweet that you’ve all made an effort to reach out to her. She looks very nervous, poor thing, sitting in the corner alone. I thought about going to say hello but I’m not sure if she’d welcome a doctor’s approach yet.”

“Data was sitting with her but – oh, I see, Sorenson’s grabbed him again.” Geordi winced and then looked over to the bar at Guinan, nodding towards Anna.

Crusher chuckled. “Sending Guinan to the rescue?”

“Guinan wanted to meet her anyway after I told her about Anna laughing at Data’s jokes all day yesterday.”

“Data’s jokes?” Crusher asked incredulously.

Geordi gave an exaggerated nod and took a swig from his drink.

“Good heavens,” Crusher said. “She’s braver than I thought!”

* * *

Anna watched Data walk away and resisted the urge to wring her hands or worse, bite the first knuckle on her right hand, a habit she’d learned from the start on the Baltimore to avoid being heard crying by the irritable captain.

She shook her head against the awful memories and instead peered around at everyone having a wonderful time. Part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and join in, but every time she’d ever been that risky she’d ended up punished for it somehow or other. So instead she watched, smiled along meekly to choruses of laughter and song, and hoped nobody other than Data or Geordi would look directly at her.

_It is good to be invited. It is good to be welcome,_ she kept telling herself. _I have friends now. Actual, real friends who are kind and genuinely want me to be here._ But that very thought was so alien that she couldn’t quite make it real even to herself. It all still felt too tenuous, too risky.

At first, Data did keep turning to look at her, so she smiled at him every time. She wanted him to go enjoy himself, and frankly the more he fretted about her, the worse she felt. It became increasingly difficult to remind herself that she was not an imposter as her self-reassurances seemed ever more futile against her rising self-doubt.

But then a lady clad all in purple approached her carefully from her right. Anna tried not to look in case the lady was simply going to sit at another table, but when she asked, “Are you Anna White?” Anna had no choice but to turn and answer with a little nod.

“Good. I’m Guinan,” she said, taking the seat where Data had been. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Anna bobbed her head and shoulders slightly and said, “How do you do?”

Guinan beamed a wide grin and Anna couldn’t help but reflect at least part of that back. There was something disarming about Guinan, enough that Anna suddenly blurted, “You have the prettiest dress and hat I’ve ever seen. It’s like you’ve caught a purple nebula full of baby stars and wrapped it around yourself and your hat is this very ship sailing through it all.”

Guinan laughed heartily. “Now that is a compliment and a half!”

Anna’s eyes went wide with worry. “Is it? Wait, was that too much? That was too much, wasn’t it? I didn’t mean to sound strange. Was it inappropriate? I couldn’t help it, you’re so sparkly and beautiful and….” She tilted her head to her left and then her right with a scrutinizing eye. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Guinan grinned and wagged her finger. “I’d definitely remember if I’d met someone like you.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “That actually doesn’t answer the question…”

“Now what can I get you?”

“What? Get me? Oh, nothing. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Whatever you want, I’ve got it or can get it.”

“That’s kind of you but I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Doesn’t have to be alcohol.”

Anna shrugged. “I really only drink water.”

Guinan scrutinized her back. “That’s it, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Mind you, I do happen to make a series of chocolate milkshakes that’ll knock your socks off. But I see your point. Those are more of a scoop thing than a drinking thing, at least as thick as I make them.”

“Oh. I….um….”

“See, there are a lot of people on this ship who come up here to de-stress after hard shifts, and sometimes they need something a lot softer than alcohol to really, truly set their sorrows aside.” Guinan leaned in closer as if she was telling a secret. “I do this thing I call the Platter of Ease. It’s seven kinds of chocolate turned into mini milkshakes ranging from the creamiest white chocolate and raspberry foam this side of the galaxy to a fudge whip that’s so dark that your troubles will get sucked into its chocotational pull, never to escape.”

“Chocotational.”

“Kid, when you get to be my age they let you make up whatever words you want. Come on over to the bar and I’ll set you up.”

Anna laughed a little and looked back towards the party. Geordi was talking to someone in a blue lab coat with amazing red hair, Data was rehearsing with the other engineers in their little quartet, and the band was still merrily pumping along. She glanced back to Guinan and asked, “Are you trying to tempt me with chocolate to lure me out of this safe, dark corner and actually join the party?

“Depends. Is it working?”

“Almost,” she admitted.

“What would it take to nudge you over that edge?”

Anna’s smile faded. “I’m not sure. I like this dark corner where my back is to the wall so nobody can sneak up on me.”

“But if you sit at the bar, I’ll be facing you and watching your back. Of course if you’re really uncomfortable down there, I can bring you whatever you’d like up here. I’m just saying that refills are faster down there.”

“Refills? On seven milkshakes?”

“If you like.”

Anna let out a long, slow breath. “I suppose if I’m here to try to fit in, I should actually try the ‘in’ part. It’s not called ‘fitting the perimeter’ is it?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no.”

Anna looked around the room once more and wondered if sitting here was maybe an insult to Geordi on his birthday, or if people might misinterpret her hanging back as snobbishness.

She looked into Guinan’s eyes again, searching for any hint of malice or trickery, and found none. So she took a deep breath, nodded, and stood.

Guinan happily led her over to the bar and Anna went to the bar stool closest to the door. It felt safer somehow to have an escape route nearby. She intended to gracefully get on it as she’d observed others doing, but it was slightly too high for her and she foolishly tried to get on from her left side, meaning she was balancing on her artificial right leg which didn’t have much in the way of pushing up onto tiptoe by itself. As a result, she sort of tipped her backside onto the side of the stool with her full leg dangling uselessly in the air between the stool and the bar. Anna tried to recover by pushing herself up by her hands, but in her haste to not look like the idiot she felt she increasingly was, she failed to get a good grip and the stool turned out from under her. She caught herself on the bar but only just, and ended up in a semi-squat position peeking over the bar in utter embarrassment.

Guinan leaned over to see her better and asked, “Are you okay?”

Anna stood back up and said, “Um, no. I’ve never sat on one of these before. Apparently I am inept at just about everything tonight.” She wished a hole would open in the deck floor under her feet and let her fall away to anywhere but here, sure that everyone must be watching her ridiculous failure.

“Usually people fall off the stools after they’ve had too many drinks, not before they’ve even had one. You’re clearly very advanced,” Guinan said with a kind smile.

Normally Anna would take a tease like that as a stab, but there was something about Guinan that reassured her on a deep level she couldn’t quite articulate even to herself. She smirked, went to the other side of the stool, and more deftly hopped up.

“See?” Guinan said as she started preparing a long, black tray of seven little glasses, each with a little spoon in front. “I knew you could do it. Turns out most things in life are pretty inconsequential once you’ve gotten them over with.”

“Most things in my life are pretty huge and awful, until recently.”

“Sounds like ‘recently’ is a good thing then.”

“I hope so,” Anna said, looking over her shoulder at the band wrapping up to the applause of the others.

“Where were you stationed before the Enterprise?”

“Stationed? Nowhere. I’m not Starfleet. I’m just a consultant here for the new warp drive.”

“I see. That’s probably why Geordi likes you so much. He’s fussy about who he lets touch his baby. You must be quite the expert.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “Have you…read anything about me?”

Guinan shook her head. “Should I have?”

“I don’t know. Most people I meet have read all about me and act in certain ways because of it.”

“And I’m not doing those things?”

“No.”

“You mean instead of talking to you like you’re a character in a story I’ve read, I’m talking to you like a regular person?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it good?”

“Um…I suppose it might be.”

“Well then lucky for both of us I never research people in advance, because all of those stories and rumours and myths and legends, they tend to get in the way of the real person. And I’m only interested in real people.”

Anna smiled.

Guinan lifted the tray up to the bar. “Here we go. Now, which do you want to go for first?”

“Jiminy Crickets this is a lot of milkshake. Wait, is the order I drink some kind of test?”

Guinan laughed, then shook her head. “You really have been put through the wringer up until now, haven’t you? There’s no test here, no right or wrong. There’s just chocolate at a birthday party.”

Anna studied the lovely line of perfect little delights in front of her, wondering if she should pick the likely best one and save it for last, or try a bit of each first and then determine an order based on that information.

“Remember,” Guinan advised, “I can refill any of them that you like. So don’t be afraid, just dive in.”

“I feel like I’m testing myself,” Anna confessed. She laughed nervously, then finally picked up the middle glass and its companion spoon and said, “This probably means I like to hide in the centre of everything where nobody will think to look. Which isn’t true, I actually like to hide where nobody can look. But let’s go with this.” She tasted a tentative sample, but then immediately took a second, much larger scoop. She rolled her eyes back and said, “That is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“And that’s only the first one,” Guinan said.

_“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it,”_ Anna sang softly with a chuckle as she finished that one off.

“I’ve always loved that song,” Guinan said.

As Anna picked up another little glass, she once again felt like there was something intensely familiar about Guinan. She was about to press the matter further when all of a sudden Guinan was looking at something else behind her, so Anna turned just in time to see a very large man in a red uniform approaching with an enormous grin. He was so tall that when he sat down on the stool next to Anna, he did so by passing his leg entirely over the stool first.

“Well hello. You’re new here,” he said, his grin widening in a way Anna had seen before on other men’s faces and instantly loathed.

“Commander,” Guinan said with her own pointedly polite smile. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

He raised his hand and said, “No, that’s fine, I don’t need anything. I simply wanted to welcome our new prodigy aboard.”

Anna was frozen in place. His “prodigy” quip told her he knew who she was, and she recalled the pictures she’d researched before coming aboard; he must be Commander Riker, the first officer of this ship, serving directly under Picard, and being in that position he undoubtedly knew exactly why she’d requested to not be approached by command staff. Yet here he was, still grinning, seeming to expect some sort of reply from her. She couldn’t breathe amidst her shocked anguish, let alone speak.

“That’s kind of you, Commander,” Guinan said, stressing the title more than before, “but Ms. White and I were in the middle of something.”

“I can see that,” he said, pointing at the tray.

Anna felt as if she was about to throw up what she’d had of it already.

Riker continued, “But since you’re up here, I figured this is a good chance to make sure the crew is doing a good job of making you feel welcome, since you had a lot of particular needs.”

Anna’s blood ran cold all over again. Somehow she found the strength to ask, “So then you know I didn’t want to have to talk to anyone in command.”

He laughed. “Well yes, but we’ve never met before so it can’t be me you’re avoiding.”

_He knows,_ she thought. _Picard has told him and he’s mocking me because he knows. I’m a joke to these people. What the hell was I thinking coming here at all?_ She stumbled backwards off of her stool, nearly falling over again but gripping the edge of the bar for support. “This was a mistake,” she said aloud. “I’m a mistake.”

Riker looked confused, and was just about to respond when the lady in the blue lab coat with the red hair she’d noticed earlier swooped in, took the commander by the arm, and pulled him away with a hiss of, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

As relieved as she was to have that brash grin removed from her presence, the whole encounter had set Anna into a cascade of spiralling self-doubt and panic. She heard Guinan saying something that was supposed to be soothing, but the words were distorted and she began to feel dizzy. From across the room she heard Riker say, “What? I was just being friendly!” and could see that the lady in blue was chastising him, but she couldn’t make out her words.

“Oh come on,” Riker said. “If she doesn’t want to talk to people, Ten Forward isn’t the place to be.”

He’s right, she thought. He’s horrible but he’s right. “I have to go,” Anna said, trying to turn towards the door but unable to make her feet turn in the right direction.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you can sit back down. It’s fine,” Guinan said.

“But I didn’t even do anything!” came Riker’s voice through the din that was beginning to drown Anna’s mind, pounding at her ears louder than it had seemed moments before.

“I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here,” Anna said, her own voice seeming like it was coming from outside of her head.

“Hey now, I’m the only one who gets to decide who belongs here and who doesn’t, and I say you belong here as much as anybody else,” Guinan said.

Anna shook her head, which she immediately realized was another terrible mistake because it made the whole world wiggle like a bag of water. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished it was possible for humans to squeeze their ears shut too, desperate to block out all sensation until she could find her footing and escape.

“What is wrong? Are you ill? May I assist you?” came a familiar voice to her left. Anna made herself look up: it was Data, his brow furrowed in concern. The sight of him made her want to burst into tears, but she didn’t dare, not with Riker across the room rolling his eyes and crossing his arms at whatever the lady in blue was saying to him.

“I’m so sorry,” she replied to Data. “I can’t be here. I tried, I really did, but I can’t do this.”

“I am sorry I did not stay with you. What has happened?”

“No, you shouldn’t have to be stuck with the likes of me. I’ll go.” Anna started stepping backwards towards the door.

“How about I bring this tray back up to that cozy corner table?” Guinan offered.

“No, sorry, I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

“I do not understand why you are apologizing, nor why you feel you must leave, but if you are uncomfortable here I will escort you back to your quarters,” Data said.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“You are not.”

“You should stay and enjoy the party.”

“You only agreed to come after I assured you that I would escort you here and back so you would not have to –” Data looked over his shoulder at Riker, then looked to Guinan, and then back to Anna. “Has Commander Riker said something to you? Is that why you are upset?”

“I can’t do this,” Anna said weakly, finally able to turn around and head for the door.

But as she stepped out to the corridor, Data was at her side. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Perhaps Commander Riker did not realize who you were.”

_Oh he knows exactly who I am,_ Anna thought bitterly.

Data continued, “Nonetheless I can see you are upset, and I apologize sincerely for allowing this to occur. I should have made it clear to him when we arrived. If you do not wish my presence, I would understand.”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t blame you. I blame myself for being so stupid as to come up here at all.”

“You are not stupid. This has been an unfortunate mishap. Please allow me to escort you back to where you feel safe. It is important to me that you not feel abandoned.”

Data’s desperate attempts at kindness were in such stark contrast to Riker’s blatant aggression that she could feel tears pushing at her eyelids and knew she wouldn’t be able to contain them for long. She nodded, then kept her head low as Data led her to a turbolift. Once inside, she whispered to herself, “Twigs and strings, twigs and strings, twigs and strings.”

Data gently asked, “Do you require twigs and strings?”

Anna shook her head. “It’s one of the few memories I have of my Grandmother. I got really upset just as we were about to leave Earth, and she told me that whenever I get overwhelmed by sadness but can’t show it or need to keep control to get something done, I should imagine in my mind that I’m collecting all of the bits of twig and string I can find inside of me to hold me up until I can find a safe place to cry it out later. And I really do not want to cry in this turbolift.”

“Ah, I understand. It is a ‘coping mechanism’.”

“Yes.”

The turbolift stopped and Data led the way out. At her door he asked, “Would you like some company? If you need to talk, I will stay with you as long as you wish.”

Anna was so humbled by his kindness that she couldn’t even look at him. She shut her eyes and shook her head. “No, thank you. You have been very kind and I’m so desperately sorry for ruining everything.”

“Nothing is ruined. I am simply concerned for you.”

“You are so kind,” she repeated, acutely aware that she was saying it too often. “Geordi is too and I’ve been so rude leaving his party like that. Please tell him how sorry I am, and that I hope he has a very happy birthday,” she said as she barely managed to enter the code into the panel beside the door. “I’m going to hide away in here now and try to pretend none of this happened.”

“If you wish,” Data said. “If you need assistance at any point through the night, please do not hesitate to call on me. I do not sleep, so you will not be disturbing me.”

Anna put her hand over her eyes to cover the start of her tears, said, “Thank you,” quickly, and then went inside before he could see. The doors closed behind her and she ran to the sofa, where she kicked off her leg and sat curled up, sobbing into her crossed knees, questioning every choice she’d made that had brought her here. Her stomach kept lurching as it always did when she was stressed, so after the sobs subsided she went to the replicator for a glass of water to try to calm it down. There, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the replicator screen.

_“Look there she goes that girl is so peculiar,”_ she sang in halting words between ragged breaths. _“I wonder if she’s feeling well? It’s a pity and a sin, she doesn’t quite fit in_ …but I’m no Belle. I’m just the garbage I’ve always been.” With that she realized her battle was lost, so she hopped to the toilet just in time to throw up, heaving well beyond the contents of the tiny little milkshake until she collapsed against the wall in a fresh bout of tears.

* * *

Data stood in the corridor outside of Anna’s door for several minutes, unsure what would be an appropriate next course of action. He calculated various probabilities to try to guess what had gone wrong, and decided it was unlikely that Commander Riker had said anything particularly unpleasant but that his mere approach had done exactly what Counsellor Troi had warned about in terms of failing to respect Anna’s wishes. But he remained confused as to why the Commander would have done such a thing, and why Anna would react so viscerally.

The trickier calculation was whether or not to call at her door to ensure she was all right. Several of her words and actions indicated strongly that she wished to be left alone, but he questioned if this was because she mistakenly thought he would judge her harshly for her emotions and was thus unnecessarily embarrassed, or if she genuinely needed space to process the events in her own time. He had observed his human friends often saying at first that they did not wish company during a stressful time only to then turn around and request company after all, and he could not pin down any logical set of indicators as to whether he was expected to press on or leave people be.

Further, he considered himself at least somewhat responsible for having left Anna’s side at the party, even though there had never been any agreement that he would stay with her the entire time. He had wanted to stay with her, and realized that his own preferences were at play here; if he was able to feel guilt, he knew he would be feeling it right now but that it would also be misplaced. He did not know how humans possibly sorted all of these tangled notions out.

Data also considered the wishes of others in this series of events. He had stepped away from Sorenson and the others mid-lyric when he had observed Anna backing her way towards the door. It was not appropriate to make a commitment to a performance and then break it, and he calculated a high probability that they were waiting for him back in Ten Forward. He also had not yet given the gift to Geordi, and ultimately this was supposed to be his best friend’s birthday party. By standing in the middle of a corridor on Deck Thirty-One instead, was he letting down a friend?

Ultimately he decided the best course of action was to return to the party. This would satisfy the most people, including at least one of Anna’s expressed wishes that he return. He also decided that he would return here in the morning to check on her and hopefully ease any lingering unhappiness she may be experiencing at that time.

Data turned on his heel, re-entered the turbolift, and headed back to Deck Ten.

As soon as he was back in Ten Forward, Sorenson and Pierson took ahold of his arms in a friendly, cheerful manner and marched him up to the stage. He put on a performance-appropriate smile and they sang their song to a highly appreciative audience who lifted their drinks in celebration. He took the opportunity to visually scan the room and determined that Commander Riker and Doctor Crusher had both left before his return.

After the song, he engaged in multiple conversations of the “small talk” variety that he had been practicing for some time, assisted several tipsy co-workers to comfortable and safely seated positions, and at the appropriate time gave Geordi the gift. Geordi was clearly very moved by the three-dimensional portrait and thanked him profusely. He marked it in his memory as one of the most successful gifts he had ever given.

Throughout the evening Data maintained an expression of pleasant social joy, completely hiding the fact that a significant portion of his background processing was still focused on Anna. He reflected upon their first few minutes when she had arrived in the transporter room and asked for his friendship. His response had been intended as general politeness, but he now realized it might have been a profoundly meaningful moment for her. He calculated the probability of her ever having had a friend before – given her lengthy isolation and subsequent poor treatment – and realized it was a low probability indeed.

This made him realize what a significant honour and responsibility it is to be amongst someone’s first friends. He recalled all of the times he had felt out of place, looked upon by others as not requiring kindness and thus treated unkindly, and spoken of openly to his face as an unfeeling object. Though the unfeeling part was technically correct, he had nonetheless always been fully capable of recognizing the dark implications of being treated as such, and how important it had been to him to find friends who genuinely cared for him regardless of his inability to directly reciprocate in the same manner.

As his crewmates partied all around him, he saw himself as part of the celebration because he knew he was valued for his presence by many, if not all, of the people there. He reflected upon the multitude of experiences that had taught him to see the Enterprise as his home and how deeply meaningful that realization had been. When he had first expressed that sentiment to Counsellor Troi, she had hugged him, and that act of affection had been important to him regardless of his lack of emotion or human-style tactile sensation. She was his friend; he knew her touch had been an indication of that, and he treasured that memory.

Data decided it was not right that Anna had gone so long in her life without similar friendship. Though he had only known her three days, he believed her to be a kind, good person, and his ethical and moral programs compelled him to make a direct effort to ensure she felt the same level of friendship that he had been granted throughout his years on the Enterprise. He was still experiencing significant remorse for his inappropriate actions while under the influence of Lore a few months prior; the readily-given forgiveness from Geordi and the others had inspired him to bolster his ethical programming to not only better protect it from external tampering, but also give it higher priority in directing future personal decisions.

A few hours later when he took the captain’s chair for a bridge duty shift overnight, he reflected upon how often Captain Picard had defended him, guided him, and been there for him. There had been times where Data had been required to lay bare the inequities Picard and Starfleet as a whole had dealt him, but the captain had always come around to his side.

As was so often the case, Data found himself laying out a course of actions in his mind based heavily on what he imagined Captain Picard would do or advise. Though he still suspected Anna disliked the captain for some reason – in spite of her reaction to Commander Riker this evening as well – he still saw Picard as a primary figure within his moral compass.

And so amidst his bridge duties, Data computed a series of plans to be for Anna what Captain Picard and all of his other friends on board had always been for him: understanding, welcoming, protective, supportive, reliable, trustworthy, and above all else, kind.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data unintentionally gives Anna a profound experience during a nacelle tour. Riker's starting to really worry about Picard, and with good reason.
> 
> The intersection of my original story with Gambit starts in this chapter.
> 
> To download all chapters of this book together with cover art as an epub or pdf file, please visit http://www.kimberlychapman.com/spacedad/read-the-stories/ .

#### Stardate 47129.2 (Tuesday 02/17/2370, 03:47)

The first thing Picard became aware of was a dull ache in right side of his neck that radiated up through his head, making his own pulse feel like little stabs against the back of his right eye. He held his breath and didn’t dare open his eyes until he rediscovered the coordination needed to bring his hand up to his face and check for Borg implants on the side of his head. Finding only his own skin there, he moved his hand down to the source of the ache and realized something had indeed been attached to his neck. He resisted the urge to pull it off, reminding himself firmly, _Resistance is never futile._

Still with his eyes closed, he listened for any sign of movement nearby and found none, though he could tell from the hum all around that he was on a ship traveling at warp. Tentatively he opened his eyes and immediately acquiesced to another defensive habit: he counted the lights in the room. There were six. He counted again to be sure. _A formation of six triangular lights forming a rectangle covering the ceiling of a small room. Six lights. There are six lights here. I am Jean-Luc Picard, I am a Starfleet officer, I am human, and there are six lights in this room._

He carefully sat up, feeling somewhat disoriented but certain of the things he needed to be certain of. He’d learned to hide his compulsion to count lights from both Deanna and Beverly because if they knew about it, if they realized this was why he now needed to shut off all lights in order to sleep, if they had any inkling how often he woke in that dark room checking his face for implants, they’d make him talk about any of it, all of it, and that was the last thing he could cope with.

Suddenly he remembered that he’d been shot with a phaser and his hands flew to his chest. He checked himself over for injuries but found none; not so much as a scorch mark on his clothes. He was confused at his lack of injury, so he was extra cautious as he leaned on a nearby table to pull himself up off of the floor.

Just as Picard was examining himself more thoroughly, the door opened and Vekor sauntered in with a nasty grin. “Hello Galen,” she said in a mocking tone. “Had a good nap? Because it’s time to get to work.”

“Where the hell am I? What ship is this? What’s going on?” Picard demanded.

Vekor laughed at him. “Baran’s right. You do ask too many questions. Let’s just say you’re hired.”

“Hired?! Press-ganged more like!”

Vekor shrugged. “Call it what you will. None of us want to be here, but we’re going to be richer for it when all is said and done. And what you need to say and do right now is that you’re going to be a good boy and set up a test procedure in our cargo bay to go through our artifacts and find any that match the terikon particle decay profile we’ve got all neatly laid out for you in your instructions down there. So are you going to behave, or do you need to find out the hard way what’s been added to your neck there? Because Baran loves any excuse to press his remote button and make us scream for his pleasure.”

Picard touched the implant again, and once more Vekor laughed at him. “Don’t try to remove it! You’ll die if you do.”

He noticed she had one as well. “And you willingly submit to this obscenity?”

“Willingly? No, I wouldn’t say ‘willingly’. More like, ‘I accept the inevitability of my situation and will do whatever I need to do in order to survive.’ I suggest you do the same. Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be working.”

Picard decided he needed to play a long at least a little for his own safety, such as it was, and that there was still a chance he could stay on Vekor’s good side enough to placate her and get her to spill occasional secrets. _If her loyalty to Baran stems solely from these implants, she may even be eager to let information slip out if she thinks there’s hope of overthrowing him,_ he calculated. _I need to appear belligerent enough to remain believable, but grudgingly deferential enough to Vekor to make her want to indulge me if she thinks it will suit her own self-interests._ With that plan in mind, he glared at her but followed her out of the small room and through the ship to a cargo bay.

Once there, she showed him the bins full of artifacts – all labelled in an alphanumeric manner that meant nothing to him, at least not yet – and she pointed to a PADD on a nearby table. “Your instructions are on there, including the profile Baran is looking for. You have a tool replicator in the corner over there, and don’t bother trying to make anything resembling a weapon because there are safeguards against that and it’ll go really badly for you. The faster and better you work, the less pain you’ll have in any sense of the word. So get to it, Galen.”

Picard looked around the room, pressed his lips together, then made a show of a resolute shrug. “Am I at least allowed to know the name of the ship?”

“It doesn’t have a name. Ship names are for Federation bookkeepers and Klingon glory-hounds. Mercenary work requires a quieter profile.”

“The kind of quiet profile where you fire a phaser at a man in the middle of a bar?”

Vekor laughed again. “It wasn’t a regular phaser, you idiot. It’s a transporter. We use them to gather items quickly from archeological sites so we can be in and out before anyone realizes. Behave yourself for long enough and Baran might let you play with one. But for now,” she said as she picked up the PADD and shoved it at his chest, “you’d best get started and show some results before Baran decides you weren’t worth the effort and just gets rid of you entirely.”

Picard was actually quite keen to read the information on the PADD to try to glean the bigger picture of what was going on, but he feigned marginal interest, sighed, and started gathering what he needed. Vekor hung around long enough to watch him order up several archaeological scanning devices from the replicator, and then left him to continue on his own.

He realized this was definitely the key to getting through this: pretend to acquiesce just enough to keep them off his back until he could somehow get word to the Enterprise or any other Starfleet entity. Picard had not planned on being involved at this level nor for very long, but now that he was stuck in both he was determined to make good of it and bring these mercenaries to justice.

* * *

#### Stardate 47129.9 (Tuesday 02/17/2370, 09:55) – Enterprise – Deck Thirty-One, Room 5435

Outside the door to Anna’s lab, Data once again found himself standing in a corridor weighing several options on how to best be a helpful friend. He knew Anna was in this room because he had checked her location with the computer before coming down; despite her not having a combadge as a full crew member would, the computer still knew her whereabouts based on her door entries and use of any touchscreen. Part of him also pondered if he should push the issue of getting her a combadge as it was well within his usual purview as Chief Operations Officer to request this clearance from the captain. But the captain was not on board and Data did not wish to overstep Geordi’s authority with engineering personnel, so he set aside that particular mental query and went back to focusing on the immediate decision at hand: should he activate her door chime or leave her be?

He considered several potential outcome scenarios and calculated various probabilities within each before ultimately deciding that proactive friendship was more desirable than passive pleasantries. Data rang the chime but there was no answer. He waited what seemed a socially appropriate amount of time and then rang it again, in case she had not heard the first one. Still, there was no answer.

Several new possibilities occurred to him and he did not like most of them, so he spoke into the split between the doors, “Anna? Are you all right? It is Data. I will leave you alone if you wish but I am concerned you may be injured in there.”

A voice called, “Enter,” and the doors opened, so Data stepped inside. Anna was sitting at the central table with an entirely disassembled shield modulator before her. She had a hyperspanner in her hand and looked very tired and perturbed.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Data said. “But I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She smiled, but it was far from the joyful one she often served him. “You’re kind, as always, thank you. I am fine, I just wasn’t sure who was ringing. I’m mucking around with this. I don’t like how modulators work. I mean they work, but I don’t like it and I want to make it better.”

“In what manner?”

“I’m not even sure. It’s one of those things I poke at when I’m otherwise frustrated. I have a long-term goal of producing stable multi-phasic shields.”

“Interesting. A laudable goal.”

She sat back in her chair. “By which you mean a likely impossible goal that a lot of other people have beat their heads on and come up with nothing.”

“No, I meant it is laudable. It is also fraught with difficulties, but nonetheless laudable. However since you are unlikely to achieve this goal today, may I interest you in a nacelle tour now that we have docked at Starbase 247? Our stay here will only be until 1400, so the window of opportunity is small.”

Anna nodded. “I heard the ship-wide announcement about making sure to be back on board by that time. Not that I have any intention of straying far myself, like I told you before.”

“Indeed. Although to see the interior of the nacelle, we will require a shuttlecraft to dock with the access port. It is an extremely short flight from the shuttlebay, and entirely safe.”

She put down the hyperspanner. “I had planned to mope in here all day and feel generally embarrassed about last night, but I really do want to see inside a real Galaxy class nacelle.”

“There is no need for embarrassment. Engineering will be quieter than usual today due to fatigue amongst the party attendees. Further, I do not think anyone other than Guinan, Doctor Crusher, Commander Riker, and myself even noticed you were upset, as nearly everyone else was facing the opposite direction. I only saw the last moments myself and remain confused as to what happened.”

As she stood and put her leg back on, Anna said, “It was just…never mind, it’s done with.” She waved her hand dismissively at the topic, though it was clear from her expression that she remained angry about something. She put on a veneer of a happier mood and said, “Show me a nacelle, then, please. I’d really like that.”

“Port or starboard?” he asked.

“Oh…um, we saw the port side for the conduits, so let’s do the starboard nacelle just for imaginary balance.”

“As you wish,” he said and led the way out.

As they entered the turbolift she tentatively asked, “So did Geordi like the gift you made him?”

“He did, very much. I believe his reaction was indicative of being quite moved.”

“That’s good. And did you sing?”

“Yes. Though I respected your desire to leave, I missed you during the performance since you indicated you like that song.”

She smiled wistfully. “I’m sorry to have missed it. I really wanted to hear you sing.”

“I could sing a portion of the song for you now, if you wish,” he said as they exited out into the massive shuttlebay on Deck Four.

“That’s sweet, but – oh my!” she exclaimed at the sight of the enormous bay filled with shuttles and related equipment. “The entire Baltimore could have fit in here!”

“Technically we could accommodate Aerie class and several other small ships in this space, yes, but we would only do so if the need was dire, as there is insufficient room elsewhere to store all of our shuttlecraft. A very good pilot can fit three in each of the cargo bays – if the bays were empty – but that would still not accommodate this multitude,” he said, pointing at the many and varied shuttlecraft in the hangar.

“Why do you need so many? Do that many of you actually fly off at any given time?”

“There are times when most of the shuttlecraft are signed out by personnel connecting to other ships, and occasionally we require multiple shuttlecraft to get crew or equipment up and down from a location where we are precluded from using transporters, but it is indeed rare for all shuttles to be in use at once. Generally speaking they are on a maintenance rotation. Today we will sign out a Type 15 to go to the nacelle.”

“Ooo, my favourite kind,” she said with a little laugh.

“Yes, the same you had on the Baltimore. Geordi likes to claim you strapped it to the back of your ship to fly the other way, though I am aware he is grossly oversimplifying.”

As they reached the stairs up to the central shuttlebay control room, she became more relaxed and laughed more freely. “He’s not that far off. My welding techniques were a bit on the fly and far from pretty.”

“And yet, you succeeded. You are extraordinarily talented,” Data said as he entered the control room.

Anna put her hands over heart at his kind words, and then followed him inside.

“Greetings, Lieutenant Hale. I would like to take a 15 over to the starboard nacelle.”

A heavyset older man with a pinched nose replied, “All right, Commander, but there’s no scheduled maintenance for the nacelles at this stop.”

“Understood Lieutenant, but I intend to give Specialist White a tour as a prelude to the forthcoming new warp core.”

Anna suddenly looked behind her, as if waiting for someone else to arrive.

Hale shrugged, tapped his console, and said, “The Curie is now marked for use at your discretion, sir.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Data politely said, then indicated to Anna to head back out of the control room. On the stairs back down he asked, “Are you certain you wish to go? You appeared alarmed for a moment.”

“What, up there? You confused me because you said ‘Specialist White’ and like I told you, I don’t know who that is. I was suddenly waiting for someone else to join us.”

“Ah, I see. I felt it inappropriate to address you casually in front of an officer outside of engineering. I hope you do not mind.”

“Oh no, not at all, I’m just easily confused by my own name. Real genius over here.”

Having arrived at the assigned shuttlecraft, Data turned and regarded her with a furrowed brow. “But you are a genius.”

Anna shrugged. “I’m smart enough to get by, but I honestly think it’s really that I’m so outside normal human experiences that I can’t help but come at problems in unique ways that get interpreted as genius when all they are is…alternative, I guess.”

“You appear to do that as well, but your processing of information and subsequent output exceeds standard human abilities. I understand the concept of humility and why some humanoid cultures value it, but it is unnecessary with me.” He opened the shuttlecraft door and indicated for her to step inside.

As she passed him, she said, “I can’t decide if you’re good for my self-esteem or going to give me a swollen head.”

“The first would be the preferable result,” he said as he stepped inside as well and sat down. “Although I am aware that the latter is a metaphor.”

“Well, yes, and let’s keep it that way. No explosive decompressions out there, right?”

“That is highly unlikely at any time, particularly given the very short nature of this flight,” Data said. But then he noticed she was gripping the sides of her seat, white-knuckled. “Are you feeling apprehensive? Once again, you appear unduly alarmed.”

“Hm? Oh. I just get nervous about crashing any time I’m in a small craft.”

“We will not crash. And if there was any malfunction with this shuttlecraft, Lieutenant Hale would see and beam us back aboard. Would it help reassure you if you took the controls?”

Her eyes went wide with horror. “Oh hell no! I flew once because I had to and all I did was point myself in the right direction and activate the autopilot. I never even had to make a course correction. I have zero desire to ever pilot again, thanks.”

“You are welcome,” Data said as he began the pre-flight sequence and failed to notice her confused expression at his reaction.

As they circled around to the fore end of the nacelle, Anna looked towards the ship and gasped.

“Is something wrong?” Data asked.

Anna shook her head. “No, sorry. I just realized I can see into my quarters from up here.”

Data glanced towards the stardrive section. “Hm, yes. Does that bother you?”

“I’d convinced myself it was safe and nobody could see in.”

“It is safe,” he said as he began to dock with the nacelle’s hatch. “We are far enough away that nobody would be able to discern any detail. If you look, you can see movement in some other windows, but even I cannot accurately identify any given personnel at this distance.”

“I suppose,” she said, sounding unconvinced.

Data was not sure how to reply to that, so instead he dutifully reported the docking back to Lieutenant Hale, who replied with a very bored-sounding, “Acknowledged, sir.” Data then opened the joined hatch and stepped through.

Once inside the nacelle, Data said, “Be careful. There is a raised edge to the docking port. Do not trip over it.” He extended a hand back into the shuttlecraft to assist her.

Anna froze, staring at his hand as if she was not quite sure what to do about it. Data could not fully interpret her expression, but as the seconds ticked on he realized his casual offer of physical assistance was anything but casual to her. He did not know if he should withdraw his hand, if he had offended her since she was so adamantly independent about her mobility, or if perhaps it appeared that he was being inappropriately forward. But the way she was staring at it indicated she was considering taking it, and he did not wish to ever be so rude as to revoke an offer of kindness. So he stood very still, waiting for her to decide what to do next.

Very slowly, tentatively, Anna stepped forward and raised her hand to his. Then she looked at him in earnest, searching his face for something, but he did not know what it was or how to approximate an appropriate response. All he was certain of in that moment was that he wanted very much for Anna to feel safe and to know that all was well.

She turned her eyes back to their hands as she slid hers over his palm. He waited a moment, then carefully closed his fingers over the back of hers and let her lean on him as she stepped over the docking port ridge. Once inside, she did not let go, so he did not either. She looked up at him and said, “Thank you.”

Data nodded, acutely aware to the nanosecond of how long their hands had been joined. When she finally let go, he recorded the entire event directly into his long-term memory, though he was not certain why.

Anna laughed nervously and stepped back from him, further along the walkway between the Bussard collector at the tip of the nacelle and the warp field coils that made up most of the length. She crossed her arms over herself as if she was cold and looked around. “Wow, I’ve never been inside a nacelle before. The Baltimore’s were so much smaller. I mucked about in them but only up to my elbows, really. It’s got that smell in here, doesn’t it? That way metal has of smelling like it’s just been really hot?”

Data sniffed the air. “Ah. Yes. I understand.”

She skipped over to the railing and looked through the field coils to the control room on the other side. “Nobody’s over there.”

“I believe the crew who would usually be at that post are engaged in other tasks since the system is currently shut down. It is perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“Oh I know. I just kind of wanted to wave at someone. Is that weird? That’s probably weird.”

“Would you like me to request that someone go to the control room?”

Anna laughed, “No, no, of course not. But you’re endlessly sweet to offer.” She pulled a tricorder out of her pocket and said, “Let’s get down to it, then. I want to take about a zillion readings, only about half of which are for legitimate professional reasons.” She conspiratorially whispered, “The other half are for pure love of all of this stuff.”

“If you wish,” Data said as he watched her happily bounce around the small space, continually turning to smile at him for reasons he did not understand but thoroughly appreciated nonetheless.

* * *

#### Stardate 47130.5 (Tuesday 02/17/2370, 15:10) – Bridge/Observation Lounge

As soon as Counsellor Troi walked onto the bridge, Riker stood from the command chair and said, “Good, you’re here. How was your conference?”

“Very productive, thank you. I managed to network with some people regarding a few tricky cases I have on my plate, so I feel a lot better about moving forward on those. I got your message that you wanted a senior staff meeting this afternoon, so as soon as I was back on board and put my things away, I came right up. What’s wrong? You’re worried.”

He attempted his usual smirk but it fell flat. “Sorry for rushing you into it so fast, but yeah. I need you. Come on,” he said, heading to the Observation Lounge and summoning the other senior officers as he went.

In a few short minutes they were all assembled, looking to Riker patiently. He stood behind the end chair and put his hands on the back, almost like they were the shoulders of a friend. “Technically I should be sitting in this chair with the captain gone, and usually I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “But something is wrong. I can’t sit here right now, and to be honest with all of you – and only you – it feels wrong to be sitting in his chair out there too.”

“But Will, you’re in charge until he’s back later this week,” Troi gently replied.

“Yes, and like I said, usually I’m fine with that. But I can’t shake the feeling that something has happened. I keep trying to brush it away, but something in my gut is telling me over and over again that he’s in trouble. That’s why I called this meeting. I need to rely on all of you to figure out if my gut is right, or if I’m just losing my damn mind.”

Crusher offered, “I’d be happy to run some scans, but you aren’t behaving in a manner I would immediately characterize as medically concerning.”

“Exactly,” Troi agreed. “I can tell you’re very worried but you don’t seem clinically pathological in any way. Why don’t you explain to us what’s bothering you?”

Riker sat down in a chair by the window, beside the end spot, leaving it eerily empty. “He’s gone on trips like this before, but he’s always checked in. Always. He can’t help himself; either he’s fishing for a report about his ship or he’s gleefully showing off whatever he’s found. Or both. And that’s on worlds within Federation space. Now he’s on a planet between Federation and Romulan space that isn’t even in the neutral zone, and there hasn’t been word one since he left this ship.”

“Doesn’t he usually say he’s arrived?” La Forge asked.

“Exactly,” Riker replied. “I’ve gone over the communiques from every other trip like this he’s taken, and he always says the same thing, more or less: ‘Arrived on whatever planet, am on my way to the site, glad the Enterprise is in good hands.’ But this time nothing.”

“He has been off the ship for thirteen days, nine hours, and fourteen minutes,” said Data. “I believe you are correct; that is an unusually long time without any communication, barring incidences of high security.”

“Thank you, Data, that was precisely what I was thinking. I did some discreet checking and as far as I can tell, he hasn’t been sent on a covert mission. Or if he has, it’s one none of us appear to have clearance for.”

“That is possible, though highly unlikely given previous delicate missions,” Data said, his brow furrowed. “Even in the most dire of circumstances in the past, at least one of us knew or was involved with any such mission.”

“I have heard nothing from a security standpoint that would indicate he is anywhere other than where we thought him to be,” Worf said.

“I looked into that too,” Riker sighed. “The records show he made his transport connections and was scanned in at the spaceport in Shiloh, Dessica Two’s largest city, on stardate 47113.5, on schedule. That’s the last anyone’s officially seen or heard from him.”

“Have you contacted the Dessican authorities?” Worf asked.

“Yes, in a very circumspect manner. They don’t have much of a central government and are pretty lawless. People go there to disappear, so what authority exists isn’t particularly keen to help. I phrased it as needing to reach him but they just repeated when he left that spaceport, and that’s that. They have no transactional records, nothing. He appears to have arrived, walked out, and then…poof.”

“It’s entirely possible things are just as I surmised when you first asked me about this a few days ago,” Crusher said. “He could be happily digging up artifacts like a boy at the beach with his sand and pail.”

“I know. And I do keep trying to tell myself that, but…” Riker shook his head.

“Based on his previous patterns, it’s reasonable for you to be concerned,” Troi conceded in a gentle tone. “There isn’t yet any reason to panic, and we don’t want to interrupt his time away, but perhaps we should attempt to send him a message.”

“That’s exactly what I want to do but I was worried I sound like a badgering nanny, checking up on him.”

“Will, you’re his first officer and his friend. Checking up on him is your job,” Troi emphasized.

“It is possible that the remote location on a remote planet will make communication difficult,” Data suggested. “He may have sent a message and it simply has not come through, in which case he may not receive one you send either.”

“I wondered about that. Is there anything we can do to make the lines more clear?” Riker asked.

“Not really for an incoming message,” La Forge said. “I mean we could sweep the lesser-used subspace channels but if was sending a casual message, he’d use a standard channel and we already routinely scan those at full strength constantly. And we haven’t taken any part of the comm system down for maintenance since he’s been gone.”

“We could nonetheless run an additional sweep,” Data said.

“Yeah, sure, happy to,” La Forge replied. “From our end we could boost the signal strength higher than usual for you to send a message. Going outside of standard parameters does decrease the security of the message, but again if all you’re doing is sending a casual ‘Hello, hope everything is well,’ line, security isn’t that important.”

“Romulans could interpret it as a hidden code,” Worf warned.

“Yeah they could, but it’d be a boring waste of their time,” La Forge replied.

“Set that up for me when we’re done here, please,” Riker requested. “And unless anyone objects, I’d like to head over to the Dessica system a little ahead of schedule. If he’s there playing in the sand, we can leave him to it until he’s ready to come aboard. And if he’s not…”

“Then we’ll all deal with that together,” Troi assured him.

* * *

Over the next several hours, Data and La Forge remained on the bridge with Riker to attempt to make contact with Picard. Worf sought out answers through security channels as well as he could, but was unable to discover anything of value. Although the senior staff operated fairly inconspicuously to not alarm the rest of the crew unnecessarily, as each hour ticked by Riker had the helm incrementally increase warp speed towards the Dessica system.

Early the next morning, several attempts were made to communicate directly with people on Dessica Two under various guises searching for any word about a man fitting Picard’s description. Unfortunately, the planet lived up to its reputation as a good place to hide, because what answers they got were small and mostly unhelpful.

Their biggest lead was via someone who remained unidentified in a bar in Shiloh who claimed to have sent a “hairless human named Galen” to another bar in search of employment. That information had come at the cost of promise of safe transport off of Dessica Two when they arrived and subsequent drop-off on a Federation world. Worf objected that it sounded like a Romulan spy trying to infiltrate Federation space, but Riker was happy enough to make the deal and then let someone else handle the fallout later. A bald man going by the name Galen was just too much of a coincidence to be ignored.

They also learned that Picard had, in fact, attempted to send an arrival message when he first reached the spaceport in Shiloh, but apparently had failed to pay the requisite bribe for it to actually be sent out of the local network. That gave them all hope that he was safe somewhere on the planet, though that hope dwindled again once they reached orbit and all attempts to reach him directly failed. A scan for his combadge failed to show him being on the planet at all, and there were no life signs at Nafir, worrying them further.

Around midday their contact was located and beamed aboard, surrounded by Worf and several other security officers. He turned out to be a small, nervous-looking human who claimed he’d been on the run from a litigious ex-wife and foolishly got himself stuck on Dessica with no way to get back to Federation space. He’d found work matching other drifters to rumoured job openings for a small finder’s fee; enough to get by on but not enough to buy passage off-world. Worf intimidated him so much that he agreed to reside in the brig for the duration of his Enterprise trip, so Riker determined him to be likely harmless.

Meanwhile, the senior officers drafted a plan to visit the bar where the man had sent the so-called Galen. They would dress in civilian attire, arrive at varied times throughout the evening, but remain in transporter lock with the Enterprise with Data on the bridge keeping an eye on them for immediate pullout. La Forge would also stay on the ship to continue scans and attempts at communications to try to locate Picard.

* * *

#### Stardate 47133.6 (Tuesday 02/18/2370, 18:15) – Dessica Two – City of Shiloh – Unnamed Bar

Riker sauntered into the seedy little bar first, bearing a friendly demeanour and happily engaging in drinks and conversation with anyone receptive to such charms. He was fully aware this made him appear to be an easy mark, but he was prepared for that and used it to draw various folks out. However, other than some amusing anecdotes and possible job offers of varying repute, he came up with little on his own.

While Riker was in mid-conversation with a pair of inebriated Suliban traders, Worf entered. He made a show of nodding gruffly towards Riker – who returned the gesture – to establish that they had met before. It was hoped that this would make each of them appear to familiar in the area and would make it less suspicious if they spoke together later.

Moments later Crusher quietly entered the bar, took a table in a rear corner in the shadows, and waited; watching and listening but not engaging with anybody.

Worf began asking around for a man fitting Picard’s description, using his imposing form to mildly intimidate anyone with information into coming forward in the opposite approach to Riker’s genial effervescence. In short order he noticed a Yridian man sitting alone at a table watching him closely with deep-set, shifty eyes tucked into a heavily creased, leathery face. Worf abruptly took the seat opposite and asked him, “Are you familiar with a smooth-headed human named Galen?”

The Yridian twitched and gestured for Worf to keep his voice down. “I’m familiar with many things and many people,” he whispered. “But you’ll need to give me more details and perhaps something worth my while before I can answer your questions.”

Meanwhile Troi came in, her arms crossed and sighing as if she was annoyed to be there. She didn’t acknowledge the others at all; instead she tiredly approached the bar and ordered a drink, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder as she did so. When the barkeep readily took the bait and began flirting back at her, she favoured him with a sultry smile and said, “It’s so nice to find good service in this city. I’m at my wits’ end trying to find what I need.”

The barkeep was an unfamiliar species to her. He had lots of fuzzy locks of hair sweeping back from a ridged forehead, several vertical nose ridges, and a single chin ridge that went all the way down to his neck. “Well now, I’d be happy to find a lady like you anything she needs,” he replied as he prepared her beverage.

“At this point, I’m beginning to doubt anybody can. I’m looking for a human with pale skin, about this tall,” she said holding her hand up in the air, “almost no hair on his head, who may be going by the name of Galen. I was sure he’d been here but I can’t seem to find any sign of him.”

“That is unfortunate indeed,” the barkeep said. As he set the drink down in front of Troi, he continued, “So, tell me: why is it so important that you find this man?”

“We had business dealings. He owes me money,” Troi replied firmly, hoping to combine her flirtatious posture with a declaration the barkeep was sure to sympathize with.

But the barkeep seemed to focus too much on the former and insufficiently on the latter as he said in an overly suggestive tone, “Well, if we had business dealings I can tell you that I wouldn’t disappear.”

Troi’s skin crawled but she kept up the pretence by raising an eyebrow and saying, “Maybe we can discuss that possibility.”

“Ooh,” the barkeep replied as if he was about to get what he clearly wanted.

She clamped down on that before it got out of hand by declaring, “But first I have to find him and collect the money I’m owed.”

Still, the barkeep pressed his luck. “I’ll be closing in a few hours. Perhaps we could, uh…discuss this more privately.”

“If I don’t find him, I’m going to have to move on.”

“Oh,” the barkeep said, finally appearing to get the hint that she was serious about her stated goal.

Troi lowered her head a little to appeal to his sympathy without risking further flirtation. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

“Human, just under two metres tall, smooth headed?” the barkeep repeated back, drawing his hand over his own head as if to show off his impressive mane. “Hmm, no, I don’t remember anyone like that,” he said, tapping his chin in an obvious tell that confirmed what she could already sense.

Troi flatly said, “You’re lying.”

The barkeep’s posture changed immediately and he growled, “And you’re a Betazoid. I thought so.”

She shrugged in reply.

The barkeep sighed a little and once again softened his tone, though not as flirtatiously hopeful as before. “Listen, people that come in here…they count on a certain amount of anonymity. And if I were to start answering questions about them – even to a very beautiful woman – well, I wouldn’t be in business very long.” Chuckling, he added, “And being a businesswoman, I’m sure you understand.”

With that he turned his back to her. She sighed, certain that he knew something but also that he wasn’t going to tell her any of it.

On the other side of the room, Worf was having a bit more luck with the squirrelly Yridian. He rose from the table to get Riker, who was cheerily chatting up another set of aliens about something to do with a knife fight. Worf gestured and Riker approached him, asking, “Any luck?”

“I think the one over there knows something,” Worf replied, nodding towards the Yridian. “He would not admit to having seen the captain, but he said anyone who visited the ruins of Nafir would probably come here eventually. I suspect he knows more.”

Riker nodded and said, “Let’s go,” walking towards the Yridian before Worf could finish.

“Commander, I told him –” Worf began, but Riker was already too far away to continue to converse discreetly.

Riker went straight to the Yridian’s table and took the chair Worf had been sitting in. “My friend tells me you know something about the man we’re looking for.”

The Yridian looked around nervously, leaned in, and quietly said, “The only reason I’m talking to you is that I have a sister too.”

Riker regarded him with confusion, then turned to Worf, who took another empty chair at the table.

Worf carefully said, “I explained to him that we are looking for a man who impregnated your sister.”

Riker nodded at Worf, then at the Yridian. “So you can imagine how much this means to me,” he said, turning briefly back to Worf to shoot him an incredulous look for concocting such an archaic, patriarchal story.

“Family honour is important,” the Yridian replied. “If someone had defiled my sister, I would do anything…pay anything to find the one responsible.”

“And how much might ‘anything’ be?” Riker asked, no longer maintaining his earlier jovial spirit.

“As much as five bars of gold-pressed latinum,” the Yridian declared.

Suddenly, the barkeep came up from behind Riker and grabbed the Yridian around the back of his neck. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink. You’d better leave. On your way, Yranac.”

But right behind him was Crusher, phaser in hand and pointed at the barkeep’s head. She pressed it right up to his cheek as she said, “I’m sorry, but I think he wants to stay.” Then Crusher pointed it at the Yridian and ordered, “Sit down.”

The barkeep reluctantly let Yranac slide obediently back into the chair.

Riker interjected, “That’s my sister. She’s angry. She’s got a vicious temper. I wouldn’t cross her.”

The barkeep bent close and growled in Yranac’s ear, “You say one word and you’re a dead man.” He then stood beside him, glaring down at him.

“Perhaps there’s an element of risk here that I did not fully appreciate,” Yranac said nervously.

“And how much more latinum will it take to offset this risk?” Worf asked.

Yranac shook his head. “This isn’t about latinum. As a man with a sister – a sister with a temper – I can sympathize with you. But how did you come here? Do you have a ship in orbit?”

“Yes,” Riker confirmed.

“Then take me with you. You can drop me anywhere.”

Riker turned back to Worf, who gave an almost imperceptible nod in reply. Riker said to Yranac, “Agreed. Now, talk.”

“The man you’re looking for was here several days ago. There was a group of aliens sitting at this table. He was asking them questions, and they seemed to be considering him for a job.”

“Who were these ‘aliens’?” Worf asked.

“I don’t know,” Yranac replied. “But they looked dangerous. They attacked him. He managed to incapacitate three of them before he was knocked down. He was thrown against that wall,” he said, pointing across the room, “and fell there.”

Troi, who had been listening in from the bar, came over and took Crusher’s phaser to keep it trained on the barkeep while Crusher pulled out a tricorder and investigated the wall.

“I’m picking up a mix of civilian and Starfleet fibre traces along with human cellular debris,” Crusher said.

“Can you establish a DNA reading?” Riker asked.

She shook her head and tapped on the tricorder. “There’s something strange here. The cell structures are badly distorted. It’s as if they’ve been exposed to some kind of high-energy field.”

“A weapon discharge?” Worf surmised.

“It could be,” Crusher replied. She squatted towards the ground where the Yridian said Picard had fallen. “I’m picking up faint traces of micro-crystalline damage in the floor material. But I’m not familiar with the pattern I’m getting.”

“Who are you people?” Yranac asked, increasingly worried.

“You didn’t say anything about a weapon,” Riker retorted.

“I hadn’t finished yet! You’ll like this: the man got what was coming to him. When they knocked him down, one of them took out a weapon and fired. He was vaporized.”

In horror, Riker, Worf, and Crusher all looked to Troi, who sadly reported, “He’s telling the truth.”


End file.
